


The Sacrifice of Devils

by TheTentacleCommander



Series: The Devil's Saga [3]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Crack, Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance | BSAA, Character Death, Crack, Crack Relationships, Crack Treated Seriously, Crack and Angst, Dark Crack, Domestic Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fratricide, Human Experimentation, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Mind Control, Mind Rape, Morally Ambiguous Character, Old work, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Past Mind Control, Predator/Prey, Size Difference, Story Arc, Story within a Story, Tentacle Monsters, Teratophilia, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 18:26:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 69,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13195989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTentacleCommander/pseuds/TheTentacleCommander
Summary: "But already my desire and my will were being turned like a wheel, all at one speed, by the Love which moves the sun and the other stars."The third arc in the Devil's Saga.Based off of Dante's Paradiso: reflecting reality and the backlash of the real world.An AU fic set 8 years after the events of RE5 and 7 after Teaching and Slumber. After the events of Teaching, Jill decided to leave the soldier's life, not just for her sanity but for the unexpected result of her misjudgment with Nemesis.But cracks are below the surface - intentions, especially in Chris' case, are not completely clear, and Sia...isn't always as cute as her smile. And do not forget, that shadows from the past have a way of resurfacing...one way or another.One such shadow will return - with a vengeance.This fic will explore darker themes and topics: it will basically not shy away from nor sugarcoat the violent or suggestive situations within. Events from pre-mansion, RE1, 3, and 5 will be revisited (or taken liberty with).





	1. Sacrifice of Devils Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Text is from Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak and the movie adaptation of 'Where the Wild Things Are' by Spike Jonze.
> 
> " " = speech  
> ' ' = speech occurring in dreams/memories

**The Sacrifice of Devils Prologue**    
  
  
 _Why?  
  
Was it desperation?  
  
Was it desire?  
  
Was it loneliness?  
  
A last ditch effort to control him?  
  
Love?   
  
No.  
  
No?  
  
…I …  
  
I…don't know._   
  
Her trust in humankind was shattered. Day in day out seeing people fight for little things; power, money, war. Things that brought out the worst in people, changed people destroyed them pushed them into man-made monsters. She saw it break apart good men like Chris, and saw it change those that already held evil inside into things beyond hellish.   
  
The years of torment with Wesker broke what little faith and trust she had left. The nightmares still come but rarely now; they mix with dreams, dreams of an event that should have never been. The result of that stared back at her with innocent blue eyes years after.   
  
As she sat years ago with a test in her hands, the unpleasant thought of  _what to do_  ran through her mind numerous times. She was reaching 30 at the time; she discarded the idea of a family when she joined the BSAA and then after breaking it off with Chris found that to be another dream to be put aside. But it sat in her palm reading in no uncertain terms proof of pregnancy. Something that never occurred, no never seemed a possible option on the table.   
  
He who never had the option to be human, nor the comprehension to do the crimes of a man – but as all abominations of Umbrella was at one point created or cloned from one – still had the desires of one. She wanted to berate herself for her foolish moment of action, acting on such base motives…but in truth how could she? It wasn't forced, wasn't taken…she freely gave and he responded in kind. No…it was more she told him to, manipulated him using him for her own fucked way to grieve. But was that wrong? Wrong to have a creature made for the express purpose  _to kill, to destroy_  to be used for  _that_? Was it wrong to have command over such power? To have that power lay hapless under her?  
  
 _Wrong to desire such power between her legs?  
  
Wrong to not expect the same comfort from a human?_  
  
A deeply hidden feeling rose from within, this feeling she hid from the others, this feeling she had kept to herself as the years passed and her life started anew.   
  
It wasn't all about her anymore.  
  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
It's evening, the sky glinting with millions of tiny lights dotting the sky. In a nondescript house filled with warm furniture and filled with smells of a long ago eaten meal, the home's inhabitants were together in a bedroom. The room was painted in the colors of childhood; full of bright colors, suns, moons, and dotted with hand-scrawled pictures and a few photos. Some of them were prized 'masterpieces', the things a gushing parent would frame praising their child's budding art skills.   
  
Some held photos of a small child from various ages, from one with a small child crawling barely the age of 1, to one with a woman with long blond hair holding a small bundle cradled in her arms. Others were of a child progressing from one birthday to another, the bright smile, brown hair, and deep blue eyes the constant in each. The smiles in each picture on the child seemed to at once charm and yet…if looked at deeper had the potential to unnerve. Some had the little girl in various areas, held with love by a much larger man, his face chiseled and gruff, and sometimes with a darker pair of arms attached to an athletic woman included in a group hug.  
  
The room was filled with typical children's furniture, the painted white furniture resembling that of a princess from a fairytale. But most of the items had along them various marks in crayon, the use of reds and blacks in various lines and doodles along them. The floor carried this color scheme, flooded with pictures full of things that fill a child's imagination. The two occupants were centered on the small bed, the child tucked in looking up at the woman sitting to the side with rapt attention.   
  
The story was beginning and the child didn't want to miss a thing.  
  
A worn book was opened, and the woman began:  
  
"The night Max wore his wolf suit and made mischief of one kind"   
  
The tall inhuman figure had been wandering, the sun bearing down on his partially exposed form. He had wandered for so long but silently gnashed his teeth as the bunker did not contain her. He roamed mostly at night, but at times walking in daylight when he was sure none would be around to spot him. But he was certain despite this, he was being tracked.  
  
"his mother called him WILD THING!"  
  
A man was eyeing him from afar through a distant camera. The look of barely noted shock crossed the man's worn yet otherwise emotionless features. He had been following the monster since Arizona, trying to figure out where it was trying to go. Despite his curiosity about the creature's motives, the man decided that waiting it out was not productive.  
  
"and Max said-"   
  
The Tyrant tired and deeply agitated in his search suddenly turned around. He faintly heard noises near. The area had changed in the near countless days...weeks...months' long course from the desert, to back streets, to this forest area. States blurred into countless varied terrain; the only thing he had to go by was what he overheard that agitating male and some other female talk about. But even with that, he felt lost and weary. But despite his fatigue, he knew he wasn't alone.  
  
The child happily yells, "I'll EAT YOU UP!"  
  
He tried to smell, but there were so many scents surrounding him, trees, dirt, various wildlife, and …humans? He brought his face to the air, letting loose a warning in the form of a deep snarl.   
  
"so he was sent to bed without eating anything." The woman continued.  
  
The air, it was like dust was clouding it; he couldn't get a good sense of where the pigs were. Like someone was purposely filling it with nonsense. He seethed this trickery not endearing them to him. A sudden movement caught his eye, the sound coming from his left side. He turned but instantly registered movement on his blind side. The turn was seconds too late as a dart hit him in the shoulder. And another and another began to dot his exposed back.   
  
He couldn't deal with the sudden cocktail flooding his system, his vision blurring; the only thing he could recall was the movement of men in dark fatigues.  
  
"That very night in Max's room a forest grew"   
  
Computers and a capsule with a chip housed inside are seen through blurry vision, the sedatives still racking his already taxed system.   
  
"and grew until his ceiling hung with vines and the walls became the world all around"  
  
The place looks familiar…so familiar but his addled mind couldn't quite place it. The feeling of binds and metal beneath him barely register.  
  
"And when he came to the place where the wild things are they roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth"  
  
 _Here? Where is here?_  He sees a needle…Sharp things…sharp things…always… _Sharp things never bode well. Never, never, never!_ He struggles hard his mind swimming drowning in a soup of confusion and disorientation. An older male with bags in his eyes looks down at him.  
  
"Till Max said-"  
  
 _Sharp things…so tired…this male…why does he stare at m…me…like that?...Father..._  The male whispered something as his eye lidded closed, swimming in darkness.  
  
"BE STILL!" came from the child.  
  
Events, dreams of a long-ago surgery he was awake for…pain…so much pain. A small gold thing placed through the cut on his head. He was awake… _why am I awake?! Can't move, it **hurts**!! …I- I'll hurt you all…watch me…_  
  
"And tamed them with a magic trick of staring into all their yellow eyes without blinking once" the woman softly spoke.  
  
He awakens…it feels like he's been sleeping forever. It felt like time had stopped again, his head…spinning, scattered. Something feels wrong. Wings glide behind him, a Woman hugging him with a crocodilian smile. He leans up but She's gone…But he could move, his outfit complete again. Visible stitching together of the torn outfit was seen, but all in all, resembled his customary outfit. The room was empty save for him and the stretcher he woke on. He was certain he was moved from somewhere else. But for now the room had one exit and it was visibly open.  
  
As he rose a sound reverberated in his mind. Soft at first, but growing in pitch it filled his thoughts cluttered his mind, murmuring things and ideas. The noise…he wondered where it had been. Wondered and now it was as if it had never left. With at least that familiarity, the Tyrant shakily stood off the metal stretcher and after a few moments made his way to the door.  
  
The man looks upon him from a further away room in faint wonder.  _Go, my wayward son._  
  
As she began to rise up, pulling the covers over the sleeping child, Jill softly whispered, "And they were frightened and called him the most wild thing of all."


	2. SofD - 1 The Moon

**The Sacrifice of Devils - The Moon**  
  
 _'Happiness is not always the best way to be happy.'_  
  
  
In the span of years since the Uroboros incident, the world trembled, let out a collective sigh, and moved on. The BSAA had ever since gained more respect and credibility (and funding) around the world monitoring the ever constant threat of unmonitored bioweapons and those that took part in bioterrorism. With the visible fall of Umbrella many vultures both of past employ and 'freelance agents' (having questionable knowledge about what they handled) came to prominence in this new trade. Many of those who entered the underground drug, weapons, and slave trades learned the ropes by hopping on the ride for some the thrill, some for ideological reasons, but the main factor being money.   
  
Money is the root of all evil, or so someone of import said.  
  
Money makes you forget death, or the suffering of others. Money erases all guilt. And unlike drugs, weapons, and the slave/sex trade the very things you sold here could potentially kill your competition. Or conversely were guaranteed to kill the trader – violently - if mishandled. This is one of the reasons TriCell was steadily if not already dead in the water. A prettied up version of Umbrella that just like them got greedy.  
  
Simon Ghandon laid back in his office chair, musing over his lucky find. He allowed himself a faint smile, knowing that he was above those amongst him in this unsavory of trades. Most of his working 'competition' was comprised of backward yokels, trying to turn a quick buck either thinking low-end Cerberuses and Hunters would net a profit or in their greed caught a big fish that only ate them whole.   
  
Money also makes you unforgivably stupid.   
  
He palmed through his dark hair, grey already coating the thinning strands. He looked haggard, tired, and yet his impassive face was what defined him – one could never tell if the man was angry, happy, sad; normal emotions were a rarity and were if anything wasted on others. Others aside from his precious children.  
  
He watched again the tape that played from his archives. He had returned after an almost year-long trip selling a few of his creations. Licker class B.O.W.s were still in demand; he had returned to find all his caged specimens dead in various states of destruction. He wore a breathing mask waiting for the system to get back up to full operational to filter out the tainted air. Seems someone hacked the computer making things slow going.  
  
A few of his staff he left behind were also found strewn about; even his second in command Ann Precher was among them all found dead in a state of advanced zombification. It seemed an outbreak happened. Oh well. Saved him from having to pay them. Or breaking it off with her. Too clingy for her own good. Besides if a mere five people cannot manage a small area as this lab then he could only thank them for merely weeding themselves out of his perfect equation.  
  
He pondered towards his ambassador of that equation that was now was roaming towards his assigned location. The recorded lab footage showed the large B.O.W. doing what he did best, destroying things unequal to him. He could not help but marvel at it, the beast ripping through what fools found to be worth anything like nothing, the nest he had set up for the last Licker brood decimated. The blind creatures stood not a chance.   
  
But what caught him off guard more wasn't that as much as his interaction with a woman who it appeared came with him. Not as a hostage, or a future victim, but with him. Since when do Tyrants, spare humans? Not only that, but he defended her – the whole of the monster's stance was  _territorial_? He recalled tapes of this one from Raccoon, tapes that infuriated him mainly due to Umbrella failing yet again him and his children!  
  
He shut his eyes, repressing the look of rage trying to surface when he thought to that ridiculous company.  _Wouldn't do to waste emotion on them_. The way they chopped them up, subjected them to unnecessary tests - he could never expect humans to do the job a God was supposed to do. Then they had the audacity to build that pale imitation Talos to save their sinking market share…he was glad he ran with the backup files of his project. The irony that he was now using an old lab for his base was not missed – he felt he was putting their admittedly impeccable tech to better use for his personal cause.   
  
Spencer always wanted to build a better human. Why when one can make a better pet? A better agent for the owner's –  _his_  – wishes? His special class of Tyrants, his children would in his eyes always be superior to whatever that old crippled dog could ever fathom – strong, intelligent but unable to overextend their boundaries, only answering to one master; himself. But that tape of Raccoon; it showed flaws in his programming that had he been given more time Simon would have fixed before launch. It not only showed the unit going off his directives but…but trying to circumvent them…all for that woman. T-that woman…! Blonde hair, paler, the face is a bit aged – that's  _Jill Valentine_?  
  
 _I thought she was dead…I should give Umbrella some credit, they managed to recover and resuscitate him. It's the least they could do for allowing such wholesale damage to him._  
  
But it was blatant, the Tyrant was guarding her. The woman was nearly dead, bleeding out onto the floor and the creature had used a spray on her. Then to Simon's shock, watched as the Tyrant lifted her bodily up off the floor like she was a frail bride. The body language in the B.O.W.'s stance said everything.   
  
 _How_? He could only surmise that his directives were damaged with the high possibility that they were destroyed entirely.  _The damage from a tactical nuke would leave more than a dent_ , Simon surmised. But the removal of them would only cause him to go into typical Tyrant behavioral patterns killing anything within reach... Something was done to him by these BSAA fools. He had noticed faint markings on the base of the Tyrant's back, but since the old chip had no pin camera to record any of the events concerning him, Simon could only speculate what sat there.   
  
Something…specifically between this woman and him was at play here. It admittedly fascinated him and irritated him at once. How was this one woman able to tame him like this? The monster should only answer to him and only him…  
  
After seeing such a display, he had turned on the tracer. He highly doubted it would be in there, but luck was on the ex-scientist's side – the chip albeit not working was still embedded in his brain. It seemed Umbrella was through in reconstructing him. At least that was what he gleaned from the more recent files his contacts sent him. He tried to access Umbrella's database for more 'current' ones, but they had been erased according to his footage.  _Smart boy...a little too smart._  Though - the lazy fools either never fixed it, or did not bother in putting back any directives at all. But the chip that worked in tandem with the parasite was designed to not only house his imputed directives but also acted as a homing device in case he got 'lost'. This beacon was what made finding his wayward son very easy.   
  
The monster had fought hard seemingly on a personal mission. The creature was so distracted that merely using heavy amounts of sawdust and Invidia put him out. As he watched the Tyrant, the man mused on his 'change of course'. The BSAA is becoming quite the problem to his current line of work. Now after years of not only replacing it but getting the prone Tyrant to bond with it again, the chip was fixed to full operation. It along with a pin camera and more modified directives the messenger he sent heading their way will be better suited to enforce Ghandon's will loud and clear.  
  
Especially to that woman – she won't damage his life's work ever again.   
  
He smiled and began running tests on the large figure lying prone in front of him. Time to fix this one too…  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
Chris Redfield smiled into his phone, having just a rather flirty conversation with his live-in girlfriend and field partner, Sheva Alomar. Over the years a simple private text, or a 'Hello, pard'na' always had the power to make a slow day instantly improve into a fun evening. Sheva kept him sane, kept him going with at times it felt like there would be no end to the monsters nor the very human creators, sellers, traders, and terrorists that came with them. The BSAA had no shortage of targets and skirmishes in this seemingly never-ending war. Sheva was there and kept his mind, heart, body, and soul content.   
  
But despite it all, despite her walking away from him, his thoughts more often then he'd like to admit would drift back to the blond. The former natural brunette was his first love; to expect him to not feel anything – he admitted to himself that he would always care for her on some level. Even if she didn't feel the same towards him.   
  
 _But he has Sheva now, right?_    
  
The BSAA were milling about in the bunker; reports of heavy B.O.W. activity in the nearby area caused an emergency gathering and deployment of the operatives still in the area. Talk of increased casualties to citizens was enough to warrant the assembly of over 40 operatives. The sheer number was not due to the number of B.O.W.s estimated; it was that in each report it was noted that only one, only  **one**  was causing this havoc.   
  
The reports were vague only based on hearsay and meager clues, the witnesses not alive to speak for themselves. But the fact that the few footprints and damage were minimal led many to believe whatever was attacking was one lone target. Not even a picture or camera shot was acquired implying that whatever was attacking knew how to avoid attention to a degree. Many including Chris found the idea of even a 'high' end B.O.W. causing such casualties alone without being seen as rare, even impossible. But his mind could not shake the feeling that grew in the pit of his stomach.  
  
 _He didn't like even thinking about that creepy violent bastard. He didn't deserve Jilly's sympathy even if she hid it deep down. He didn't deserve a moment of her grief._  
  
As much as Chris was sad about Jill's mental state after that fateful day years ago, he deep down was happy that the monster had been killed. It was a guilty thought; the monster down to his last protected Jill. But he also left her saddled with an extra responsibility. A responsibility he was personally disgusted, even angry about – but when he thinks to that child's face all his repressed anger ebbs away. Such a cute innocent produced from such a union. He was torn – he never directly asked Jill if the event was forced, or not. If it was forced he would never forgive that inhuman beast. But if it wasn't…he didn't want to, didn't want to fathom the why in Jill's actions.  
  
And that child…she was the child he always wanted, always dreamed of…he was so excited to put his name on the birth certificate. Not just to help Jill, but because in some way Sia was his way of still being a part of Jill's life. Sia was legally his child.   
  
 _He and Jill's child.  
  
It didn't matter in the details, right?_  
  
He shouldn't be thinking like this…he has Sheva now. But…all this time Jill has had only Sia. No other man in her life, no real friendships outside of him and Sheva. He sometimes sees the glances she would make…the almost hopeful glint to her face. As if all the evidence in the world would not convince her to give up hope.  
  
And even though he wanted to hold her, to tell her  _it…he is gone_ , she still refuses his and everyone else's touch save for Sia's. That child is her world. Chris just wanted back in again… _was that so wrong_? He was on friendly terms with her but…he wanted to be the one to give her hope not that murderous abomination.   
  
As the troops assembled, the few reports that came back confirmed to his dismay the presence of one target. One sole target was causing this havoc. Deep down he refused to even consider it… it was over. That hole was deep; no one could survive such a drop, nor climb out with ease. And from the hysterical mumbling of Jill the bastard had only one arm! The mere idea of him surviving that and disappearing for all this time just seemed so unlikely, so impossible.  _But why does he still swim in doubt_?  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
She had run into the treatment room, the female feeling cornered after seeing his 'gift' in the form of that meddling male rammed up through the ceiling. The surprised look of terror on the grey-haired man's face made the move worth it – no one was going to steal  _his_  prey.  _No one_.  
  
She had backed away into the room hoping to avoid him. But he was one step ahead of the female as always, enjoying her look of irritation.  _But still no fear_. The click of the auto lock went off trapping her inside with him. He knew that there would be no way out now. But he could live with that. She would die with him; he would complete his mission and all would be well.   
  
But the female still, after all, she endured refused to just surrender. She refused,  _refused_  despite being trapped. Coated in splatters of gore, most from others and some from herself she stood in defiance. But at this point in the chase, he was beyond anger now, beyond rage. Ever since that frustrating incident, he just couldn't make himself focus anymore. The urge to merely kill seemed so small now.  _So pointless_. He…he wanted more but couldn't understand  _what_  he wanted more  _of_.   
  
And she didn't help at all. She seemed to gain what she wanted then, why not him?  _Why!?_  He ran at her, his body ragged, tired. Maybe if he grabbed her again, made her stock still till she gave him what he wants - whatever  _it_  is - then maybe he can think clearly again? He grabbed her with a free tentacle, hoping to gain answers.   
  
And if she gave him none then at least they would both burn.   
  
But the female only struggled out of his grip. He was tired of this.  _Tired of her damn running_. He ran to pin her – and felt his skin, bone, a good half of his face burn away in a sea of agony. He screamed, the sensation, the sound of his own voice railing in pain so helpless so terrifyingly new because it was caused by her this time… a sword stabbed him in his side adding to his suffering.   
  
The Woman is impatient -  
  
He awoke to numbers and sounds filling his head. They scream all the time now demanding this demanding that. Lying inside an abandoned tool shed a few miles off his new target, he shook himself fully awake. A few had chanced upon him, the noise in his head raging for speed more than stealth. In order to cover his tracks, it demanded blood, the noise and even the hard gaze of Her egging him on.   
  
He knew terminating the soft pigs would draw more attention in the end, but since when did he care about agitating them?  _They should not be in the way then!_  Besides, they'll only throw more of their number at him…more to destroy. Despite himself, he licked his teeth in excitement already smelling the future bloodshed. The second pair of eyes that constantly hung by his side he knew approved despite Her silence.  
  
The faces of people he had long forgotten flashed in his head more often than not now. Except one. The female's face will never leave him…but the noise in his head threw up pictures of her, out of uniform, living in comfort.  _Living. Breathing. Being._  But those images could not compare to the ones from memory…the ones that showed off her full range of emotions …towards him. For him. Because of him.   
  
 _Her mouth parted open in euphoria because of him._    
  
His eye for a moment silted closed missing her warmth, her softness that encased her internal strength. But as soon as the memory came it fled into a place he could not follow; another image forcing itself in its place. One image had her curiously with a small one at her side. The child that hung beside her was largely ignored by the noise. But her face; it was so striking, a spitting image of her mother in earlier days making her maternal parentage without question.   
  
But no male by her side, no other? It would only make sense for the female to wish for children, for a family. It wasn't anything unexpected…it is in the nature of things. Mate. Feed. Kill. But a darker feeling of rage was simmering; missing or not no male is worthy of her.  **None**.  _Whoever fathered that child_ …a darkly murderous urge rose within.   
  
 _Mistakes can be erased. Unfit litters can be destroyed._  
  
The noise did not protest. He would find her as it commanded and have her again. He didn't need it to motivate him…but he did wonder - what it would command once he found her?  _Will it allow him to...to…have that…again?_  But for now, it pushed him, willed him to the bunker that once housed him. It demanded an audience with that male;  _that male_  who reeked of contention for her. The man that wanted - no wants to steal  _his mate_. He'll fix that problem - very messily.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
Ten teams of 4 operatives each, along with Chris and his subordinate officer Trent Haddens were outside preparing vans and ammo. The weather was overcast casting a heavy shadow on everything. The battle-hardened man was proud of how quickly and efficient everyone had acted in the short notice given.   
  
Sheva had begged to come down to assist but she was clear across the world helping Josh in a small mission. By the time she would get here they would already be on the hunt for this disturbance. Besides the group assembled was over 40 strong. One B.O.W. couldn't take them all. He told her this to calm her worries; the tenseness of what they'd find still knotting his insides.  
  
Trucks filled with high-grade weapons, first aid, and ample injector guns surrounded the area. One team had already entered their van and was ready to roll. Many were checking and double-checking their gear, the air around the bunker filled with tension. Many faces seemed too eager to engage what was out there. Young faces and some older - most of them not even more than 2 - 3 years in their tenure. Despite this, he could only hope that the mixed levels of experience would fight off whatever was -  
  
As Chris looked down onto the scene his world suddenly seemed to move in slow motion. The van with the initial group found itself uprooted from the front, a heavy force punching down through the engine block causing the back to flip up from the pressure. The people inside all violently pitched to the front, an unfortunate man landing on the windshield face first, then his other three comrades with their equipment landing on top. His body collapsed in with the added weight and the glass crushing him between them. The glass started to crack from the weight; the Tyrant busted his fist through past the glass and dead man to pull another through it, snapping the unfortunate's neck en route leaving a trail of gore through the glass.   
  
The other two trapped inside tried to gain footing and make it out the door but before they could get the door fully open the van was pitched bodily on top of an empty one. The other BSAA had only moments to recover from the sudden attack. The tall B.O.W. merely tilted his head towards them, their number not even garnering concern if any on his monstrous face. His was a face that a few of the older staff had wished never to see again – especially Redfield, their commander. His face was one that those new to seeing the legendary B.O.W. internally wished dearly that they were just viewing a picture.  
  
He merely bowed his head, a deep baritone growl filling the air. Every inch of him read with violent intent. Two groups cautiously approached guns cocked their injector guns at the ready. He could smell it…the baleful liquid, and their fear. He let them live years ago. Today he feels like rectifying this. Before one with an injector could react, his large gloved hand grabbed one by the face with inhuman speed before bringing his large fingers closed crushing the trapped person's skull like fruit.  
  
The group started to shoot, the bullets having little to no effect if they hit him at all. The large group began to swarm around him, the only tactic they could muster despite their training milling about in barely concealed panic. He merely roared in glee letting them swarm closer to him, speeding up their deaths.  
  
 _Oh God…no. Don't do that!_  Chris mentally screamed. They were playing into the Tyrant's hand; fighting him in close combat was tempting death. Sheer numbers mean nothing to the monster now slaughtering troops outside.  
  
"Where's the megaphone! They need to not surround him!" Chris yelled towards Trent.  
  
The younger team lead balked at this. "And how are we to apprehend it then Sir? If we don't, it'll just escape through our line."  
  
"Animals like that are more than likely to be provoked if it feels trapped. It'd be best to spread out-"  
  
"I hate to put your tactics into question but that's madness. Giving it that much berth is asking for trouble!"  
  
"You don't know it like  _I_  do," Chris murmured. Despite Trent's protests Chris ripped the megaphone out of the younger man's hands and spoke over him, "Listen! Spread out from him! Now!"   
  
The monster was now in the midst of three teams, their members strewn around his feet. The Tyrant noted that the pigs were backing away. A loud familiar male voice, coated with a bit of age and added gruffness greeted his hearing. His blood coated eye barely turned to see that male again, being loud and irritating. Being a problem he must fix. A younger male hung by his side, the look of shock and panic on his features. But that older male, the one that looked upon him with open disgust was more pressing.  
  
White appeared behind the yowling male, a feathered wing fanning out behind him. The dead stare of Her met the Tyrant's gaze. She held her sword towards the man's neck as if giving him the go ahead. The noise in his head rose, clamoring for blood. He knew what it wanted now and he didn't mind obliging it.   
  
Chris looked at the tall figure, already crouched in an aggressive stance. The stapled figure had his head lowered – and then suddenly was looking dead straight at the BSAA. The colorless eye looked at him calmly, the gaze causing a chill through the man. A small almost imperceptible movement of the Tyrant's eyelid-  
  
And suddenly without warning the beast went into a dead sprint. If he was human the movement would have been readable, but it looked almost as if he was clipping through the air; it reminded Chris of the times he fought Wesker and feeling disoriented at the sheer speed of the man. But Wesker was dead. This creature previously thought dead was very much alive and heading straight towards him.   
  
Bullets tried to land and either outright missed the Tyrant or the few lucky hits bounced off his frame. One operative had the misfortune of being in his direct path and was knocked clear across the room without a thought, the man sailing and landing with a bone-cracking thud over 10 feet away.  
  
The B.O.W. leaped with almost cat-like grace over a van his mission to get at Chris paramount. Dust kicked up around his stitched up trench, mixing with the blood splatter that ran down it. Outrunning him was not going to happen, but Chris ducked into the bunker anyway knowing that running inside was foolish …but if it drew him away from the others…  
  
He had barely flung himself into the front entrance behind the desk when the front doors were ripped off their hinges. The Tyrant shook off the loose rubble, audibly sniffing the air trying to place his quarry amidst the debris. Chris had sprinted down a hall unthinkingly and found himself headed towards the White Room. The only thing down the hall was an elevator. Some part of him formulated a plan – Chris just hoped it would work.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
The B.O.W. thought he had caught his scent but all the dust kicked up from the crashing in of the front doors and the place inside confused his senses momentarily. He then caught a good trail and followed towards the darkly lit hall that had been at one point in time his home. He ran down the hall following on sheer memory and smell. The elevator was open, but the male was nowhere to be seen. He growled in irritation as there was no way his quarry had slipped by. He charged into the deep hospital sized elevator expecting the male to be cowering like all pigs do.   
  
 _He smells him, but where?_  
  
Another smell hit him, a smaller amount than in their guns but still there. The male jumped down in front of the Tyrant from the elevator's top rigging, jabbing the syringe into the Tyrant's exposed shoulder. Being tricked infuriated him, he could feel the liquid affecting his system, but he'd be damned if this male gets one over on him. He grabbed the male by the throat and starts to ram him into the walls, denting the sides. The male had barely enough strength to reach for a button closing the elevator and starting its descent. Blood pooled from a gash on the male's forehead, but the amount of punishment meted out was not enough for the Tyrant. His body wanted to shut down, his mind wailing that the male was still alive.   
  
 _Barely breathing but alive!_  
  
He could feel his grip loosening, the satisfactory smell of the male's blood coating the floor. He looked at the man's pained eyes, black bruises forming on the gruff man's skin but   
  
 _Still…alive_  
  
Keeping his eye open became a labor…his breathing slowing down, the world slipping…  
  
 _still_  
  
His large hand tried in vain to grab him back, but the promise of sleep crept upon him with speed.  
  
 _alive_  
  
…  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
Chris had to fight through the pain now. He was losing a good deal of blood but he knew the amount of sedative he gave him wouldn't keep him out for long. As the elevator door opened to the rock and dirt hall, Chris could only muster enough strength to roll the Tyrant's form onto the floor.   
  
He limped forward his body aching in pain. His head was ringing his own blood coating the floor and metal dented walls. He pushed the doors closed and slid down to the floor. His shaky hand reached to push one more key-  
  
A hard bang from the other side jostled him from the closed door. Denting from the other side started to form along the panels, the Tyrant definitely enraged. A blood-covered finger pushed the last button to push the elevator upstairs.   
  
As the doors opened to the top floor, he pulled himself outside of it, letting it close and lock behind him. He used the last bit of conscious strength to spring the locking system, effectively locking off the elevator system pinning him down there. Chris could feel his body slump, his head clamoring for rest. His blue-grey eyes shut slowly closed letting the blackness of unconsciousness take him.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
The BSAA had successfully trapped the B.O.W. down the underground hallway; it undoubtedly locked down to the world. The mechanism bolted down the doors that opened for the exit, the elevator itself becoming the blockage to the way out. Rock that had once been pinned closed was released into said shaft the way out proceeding to be filled with solid rock. Only by a miracle of God or a very devoted excavation crew was that bastard getting out.  
  
As much as the event of him attacking would be of note, Chris didn't want to cause Jill more grief. Part of him knew she would have wanted to know – but why? To tell her that her former pet was rampaging killing off innocent people? Or that now 30 tonnes of rock-cut him off from the rest of the world?  
  
 _Either answer would only hurt her_ , he mused. And so as he rose from a cot bandaged up walking away with a few broken ribs and a gash on his forehead, Chris decided that one lie wouldn't hurt. She left the BSAA to start a life of peace and relative anonymity.   
  
The beast stored downstairs would give her neither.


	3. SofD - 2 Mercury

**Mercury**  
  
 _'Well, look: this used to be all rock, and now it's sand, and then, one day, it's going to be dust, and then the whole island will be dust, and then... well I don't even know what comes after dust.'_  
  
  
She sat looking through her closet rifling through the myriad amounts of shirts, jeans, pants and what she would always deem 'civi wear'. She never wore anything as outwardly considered 'feminine' as in her younger days – after the Raccoon incident she just never had the need or desire to.   
  
Aside from a business suit when she was with the BSAA she just kept to conservative dress. It was easier on herself, easier to keep her skin covered. Easier as she looked down at her arms the pale sheen of her skin still unpleasant to study after all this time. She didn't keep a mirror save for the standard bathroom ones – other than dealing with her hair or washing her face she had no need for one.  
  
 _Why when what you see back terrifies you?  
  
Sickens you?  
  
When fingers touch you that isn't yours…_  
  
Unthinkingly she stares at the underside of one albino skinned arm, the faint pops of color a permanent reminder of those fingers that had irrevocably taught her, shown her the world in all it's cruelty. She can feel the burn of his touch, of his sharp metal courses along her skin.   
  
For a moment she felt like shutting down, her fingers trembling along one particular dark course. The feeling of smaller hands touched her arm.  
  
"Momma, I hear a knock at the door! Want me to get it?"   
  
The sound of her child's bell-like voice snapped her out of her moment, the much smaller hands bringing her back to reality.  
  
"No girly, wait for me. Can't be opening doors and not know who it is now can we?" Her voice was slightly distracted, but with that strength that served her well, almost too well, pulled herself together. "C'mon I bet that's your Auntie and Uncle, let's let them in."  
  
The child grabbed Jill's hand as they both walked to the front door.  
  
As she held the small one's hand, Jill was reminded of the hands that helped create the child that currently was a being of pure radiant happiness. And despite telling herself the futility of it, her heart lurched wishing she wasn't the only one here for the child.   
  
Wishing she wasn't alone.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
A month later had Chris and Sheva taking their monthly trip to visit Jill. The visits sometimes were more frequent than that as they both were a way to keep Jill somewhat in the loop on bioterrorism happenings, but to also visit Sia. The little girl was written officially on birth certificates as Redfield's child, partly to avoid untoward looks and to make filing paperwork on her easier. The two were considered her Uncle and Auntie, but over time to them, she became the child neither could afford to have.   
  
Chris even more so had taken to the girl, treating her as his own little princess. The girl looked to be an almost spitting image of her mother, the girl possessing the dark brunette that once was her mother's natural hair color. Aside from them, she was a rather quiet child around others, but that could be attributed to her just being shy around strangers. If one didn't know the circumstances one would say she was a perfectly normal child.   
  
He hoped for her sake it stayed that way.   
  
They arrived on a Sunday. It was mid-spring, during spring break for most American children. The two stepped out of the van they had on loan from the BSAA offices. Jill's location was classified, but despite her wish to walk away from her past career, she wasn't but so far away – a good 48 hours drive away in fact.   
  
Chris had always wondered if Sia hadn't come along how long would it have been before Jill would have requested reinstatement. He knew or at least from what he thought he knew of the woman knew her to be a workaholic staying up for ungodly hours doing work. The time away from having any responsibility would have eaten away at her; he hoped that this more pressing role could fill at least some of the void in her life – now filled with bedtime stories and cookies, not bioweapons.  
  
And sometimes, he wondered if he could help her in that regard as well.  
  
Seven years.   
  
Seven years and only Sia hung at her side. No mention of anyone else, any note of any friends or dates, not so much as a name in passing. The woman was in her early 40's and looked save for a few lines here and there not a day over 30.  _At least to him_. Her face looked healthier than during her time at the BSAA.   
  
And personally, aside from Sia she at times came across as distant, even at times cold. It wasn't as if she was intentionally trying to brush him off like years past, she just seemed at times super focused on the immediate, namely her child. And there were her odd reactions that carried over even before Sia was born.  
  
He remembered himself at times touching her by accident or merely grazing her in passing and almost instantly she would pull her arm away. He knew their relationship ended in not the best of ways but he thought time would have healed such wounds. But still, even after their reconciliation she would still refuse even flinch whenever they would merely touch in passing.  
  
And then there was that look. That almost pained look would fleetingly cross her eyes; it flashed then hid under the calm mask she wore. She hid it so well that it was as if it never occurred at all. Things had been bad between them, yes but sometimes Chris wondered if something else entirely was affecting the ex BSAA's mind. As much as he wanted to find out the real reason behind some of her mannerisms he didn't pry. He wasn't going to press the issue; it never worked before and he knew that Sia was the main reason she let them into her life at all. He didn't want to ruin that.  
  
 _Even though in his flashes of temper towards her he forgot this._  
  
But right now a little ball of wonder jumped into his strong arms. Still well built for being close in age to Jill, Redfield would say he was a decent looking guy; Sheva at least thought so. But in comparing himself to Jill she looked far too young for the age she was. A curious thing that no amount of surgery could do…he mused this briefly before the girl in his arms shifted towards his partner 10 years his junior.  
  
The leggy coffee-skinned woman by his side grinned at the child.  
  
"Seems someone's been eating bean sprouts. Look how tall you are!" Sheva tickled the girl lightly in Chris' arms, the child straining to escape but trapped in his strong yet gentle grip.  
  
"I can't help it, Auntie, my legs won't stop growing!" The child giggled out, her small voice trailing the air. A woman in a plain tee and baggy pants walked out behind her, the platinum blond hair pinned back in a loose ponytail. The hair was shorter slightly then in her BSAA days but still hung past her shoulders.  
  
"Hey guys, I was wondering when you'd be in," Jill smiled. She reached and hugged Sheva, the two over the years becoming close despite the history with Chris. "Did you guys bring a lot of luggage?" Jill noted a small limp to the man's side but didn't think much of it. BSAA get into hairy situations.  _Still surprised he'd still drive out here despite such an injury._  
  
"Do we ever? You know us operative types – pack light, pack right." Chris chimed.  
  
"Seems unlike Miss Tree over here, you haven't aged a bit…what's your secret?" Sheva chucked, genuinely amazed at the minimal changes to the woman's body.  
  
"Well everyone knows that T-Virus has a chance to rejuvenate skin, eh?" Chris says offhandedly. As soon as the comment left his mouth he felt a pang of annoyance towards the reason for his still recovering injuries.  
  
 _Years after the fact and he still has the need to take a jab at the dead?_  Jill holds her tongue, letting it go. Getting mad won't solve anything. She leans to ruffle Sia's hair ignoring the comment. "We were planning on before you two got here to head out to the park. Want to take her over there for a while Chris? ...if you don't mind Sheva; we could take in your stuff and have a chat."   
  
"Oh I see how it is; girl talk time eh?" Chris with the child still squirming in his arms let a deep exaggerated pout cross his gruff features as he was singled out of their conversation.   
  
Both the former and other current BSAA laughed at the hilarious look on the built man's face. "Guess you'll never know Chris. Go on, there's dirt with that little girl's name on it." Sheva mused.    
  
"Fine but don't be planning anything funny, like flushing my cigarettes down the sink or anything."  
  
"Wouldn't dream it." Sheva shot back, both women laughing.  _The man and his on again off again war with the cigarette_ , Jill inwardly mused.   
  
As Redfield and Sia went towards the nearby park, the two women went to unpack the van and to catch up on old times.  
………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
Friday evening was the day Chris and Sheva left for their visit to Jill. They would go down often during lulls in missions in nothing but a BSAA van (all vans wore no logos so it looked like any other on the road) some luggage, and some good road music for the 48 hour trip to her location. They left earlier in the morning planning on arriving Sunday morning and to avoid weekend traffic. After 4 P.M. the bunker and all staff leave for the weekend. Since Jill left no one stayed inside the eerie place after hours.   
  
Aside from the resident of the buried White Room.   
  
Noises started to pitch in loudness, the mixture of rock being displaced and metal being bent echoing down the 'foxholes' that comprised the bunker. More vigorous movement was heard, the shifting becoming more pronounced. Scraping, then the sudden piercing through the locked off elevator door reverberated down the halls. A tentacle coated in purple blood pushed through, making one hole. Then two. Then three. Then the tentacle became fingers, larger and way stronger which tore the weakening doors apart ripping them off of their tracks.   
  
The large figure is disoriented a bit, the minimal light of above ground temporarily blinding. After adjusting his lone eye, he climbs out his outfit covered in a sheen of dirt, rock, and dried blood. He sniffs the air searching for that male again. But it seems the place is void of anyone. Still tired from the exertion, the B.O.W. wanders through the darkened halls.   
  
In his wanderings, he chances upon an office, the faint smell of that male that trapped him in his temporary prison permeating it. He snarled deeply in irritation. As much as he wanted to indulge in the petty satisfaction of destroying the meager room he needed to get his bearings. Looking over the office, his eye lands on an item on the office desk. He picks up the small photo postcard – the picture containing a female and child in swimsuits at a park of some sort. He stares at it for a good long moment, tracing the outline of the female the deeply held longing for her flaring wildly.   
  
He could faintly pick up her and the child's smell from it… too faint to pinpoint specifics other than the little had an affinity for dirt. But her scent, it was so warm. He leaned onto the desk palms flat the sensations at first pleasing then overwhelming. But he could have sworn that a lighter yet high pitched sound came from the back of his head. He didn't know if it was bad or good but decided it was best to not test it and tried to push her scent out of his immediate attention.  
  
The child beside her peaks his curiosity again, the child keeping his mind focused on his task. He darkly hoped yet not hoped that male was the father. If the child is…the more pain he plans to inflict on that unfit male. The postcard itself was all he needed now. It was more than just a nice picture; it also had the address of both the bunker and his female's current location.   
  
The bunker is located in Northern California. She is in Nevada …not as far as he thought.   
  
Pocketing it, he continues on the hunt.  
………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
After a few moments of unpacking, and arranging a cot in the guest bedroom, the two women decide to also enjoy the afternoon air and walk during their conversation.  
  
"So how is it in the trenches?" Jill asks. Despite her retiring, she still liked to be kept in the know; bioterrorism doesn't retire, it just changes and adapts.  
  
"Nothing really. We scooped out a few hotbeds dotting along West Virginia. Guessing traders thought if they kept to the mountains no one would notice. As much as I hate dealing with this shit, one can't help but laugh fighting B.O.W.s in 'banjo' county."  
  
Both women chuckle – find the mental image of a Tyrant in overalls twanging away on a washboard and banjo in the mountains strange and light-hearted. If only the wars constantly fought was like that. But the fleeting image of happiness made the blond's mind wander to the past. A look of wistfulness crossed her features until the other woman's hand tapped hers.   
  
"Earth to Jilly? Where is your mind flying off to huh?" The BSAA's bright smile pushed the memories away. Jill decided to change the subject to clear her mind.  
  
"Speaking of work, did Chris get into something deep? He's been limping funny since he got to our porch. I hope he didn't rush out of bed just to visit us!"  
  
Sheva suppressed a small look that Jill barely caught. "Oh, nothing too big Jilly. What doesn't kill that man only makes him stronger."  
  
As much as she liked being honest with Jill, especially with the way she and Chris got together, she agreed that keeping her in the dark was best. Already being told by Chris to not mention that event Sheva downplayed his injuries.  
  
"I dunno, if I had known-"  
  
"Don't worry Jill. Not even Fate would have kept him; no us from stopping by."  
  
Sheva then smiled hugging the woman, feeling deep down like she was helping Chris cheat on her all over again.   
………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
The neighborhood park was a small shaded area that was surrounded by a tennis court, a basketball court, and a jungle gym. But the place that held the little girl's interest was the sandbox. It sat to the back of the lot shaded by trees. During the summer when the heat would be overbearing the shade made playing in the sand cool and enjoyable. Considering that it also was near the parking lot it made for a quick exit when play time was over. But the same shade that cooled the place down for children also hid things; monsters that prey upon and eat little children.  
  
One such monster had decided to pause in his pursuit of his initial target, deciding to wait on taking out the gruff male reading a paper, his eye landing on a small child a few feet away from the male but in view of him, playing in the sand. He found himself fascinated by her, watching but wanting to get a clear look at her. Her small dress was covered in patches of sand, the child having way too much fun in the sandbox. She looked no more than six or so her brown hair disheveled but her eyes reading pure enjoyment.   
  
Observing her, the small female seemed content in playing by herself, playing away from the others. In fact, it seemed the other small ones kept her at a marked distance – a ball had rolled nearby... but none of them would venture to recover it. She merely looked up from her sand castle with a markedly vacant stare towards the other little piglets. The ball became part of her castle's moat, no one coming up to protest.   
  
The human male gruffly started to talk, his voice even after all these years still making the Tyrant wish to rip out his voice box. He had a few bandages on himself, bruises from their past encounter showing through them.  _The male probably thinks that he had won their little fight_. The B.O.W. thought he saw a feather float by but that fleeting thought was dropped as another figure entered the picture.   
  
As the male spoke to another beside him, another thin, almost gangly male walked towards the girl. It was strange – the girl was nothing if but a distraction but he could not help the murderous instinct that rose as the male strode closer to the child. Humans would say it was more a 'gut reaction' if anything.   
  
The male reeked of fear – and arousal. Things that he thought most humans did not direct towards their young. This male convinced the child to walk with him while the other was distracted. Despite the thrumming in his mind, he followed using the wooded areas they were heading into as his own cover.   
  
The male was leading her to the parking lot, his eyes darting around hoping to get out unseen. The lecherous gleam was clear on his features; the little girl looking oblivious…until she stopped, looking directly at the B.O.W. in hiding. She was grinning deeply at him, the child letting on that she indeed could see him. That she knew he was there possibly the whole time.   
  
 _How? How does this human see me?_  
  
She had spoken then, her eyes once glinting of happiness shifting to vacant detachment. She said that her Daddy would not like him.  _That this male was bad_. This he could agree with. The fear rose high from the male, the pure craven tinge to it egging him on. He rose from the cover of the dark brush and stood behind him. The little girl merely pointed at the Tyrant, the bell-like voice bellying only her pure happiness at the situation.   
  
The male had turned towards him, his whole form going ridged in fear. With a tentacle, he speared him in his throat quickly, not letting the man get a chance to scream. He almost without even thinking took that male and pushed his fingers through his abdomen, ripping through his soft belly past into to the warm entrails letting his intestines dribble out onto the ground. He tossed the sack of dripping blood and gore onto a tree branch over the child's head.   
  
The whole thing took a mere few seconds and through it all not a single look of horror or fear crossed her face; just awe. Humans, not even their litter react this way - the child did not flee, she merely stood smiling up at him. Not a hint of fear or confusion crossed her shining bright eyes. Bright eyes that started to fade pale faintly from … _excitement_? He reached down from the bleeding corpse, a droplet coating his index finger. Softly he trailed a line down the small female's face; she called him that word again… _Daddy_.   
  
He rolled it around in his head, tilting slightly trying to work his mind around it. He came here to crush this child, this unknown litter - but merely she grinned up at him with the understanding patient eyes of a fellow predator.   
  
 _Daddy.  
  
"My Daddy…"_  
  
The almost possessive way she said it towards him…the girl looked like she wanted him to hold her. The feeling of new found understanding was so overwhelming. He had marked her face, as one of his kind should bear the blood of a kill. The Tyrant walked away sensing that male nearing them, reeking of concern he should have had minutes ago. As much as he would have liked to destroy that male for both being a poor guard and for just being, he decided to wait. The two would lead him to a much bigger prize - to his mate.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
Chris finds the little girl coated in gore; the horror of the blood-soaked child is dwarfed by the sight of a person barely recognizable hanging from the tree above her. He didn't wait for any bystanders and just ran with her to the van. Once the two were in the van, he drove off hoping to make the distance between the scene and themselves.  
  
"Sia…honey…did – did you find that in the tree?"  
  
"Find what Unca' Chris? The man?" The child had on her trademark grin, a grin that right now made Chris' skin crawl.  _She's just a child. There's no way she could have done that. But she…she was painting her face with its entrails!_  
  
He calmed himself not losing his cool in front of a six-year-old. "You saw who did that, Sia? You don't have to be scared, I'll-"  
  
"I'm not scared Unca' Chris – he was a bad man."  
  
At this Chris stopped the car, arriving at the house. "Hrmm, why's that little girl?"  
  
The girl said in her bell-like voice beaming with happiness, "He made Daddy angry and was punished."  
  
If he wasn't fully creeped out before, he was now. "Really now. Well, I think that whole thing back there should stay between me and you, okay little girl?"  
  
"Between you, me, and Daddy. Kay."  
  
"I'd rather you not talk like that, Sia. It's not appropriate." The girl made a face, not of sadness but almost a borderline rage-filled face; but before it could fully rise to the surface it was replaced by her normally girlish smile. He didn't wish to admit it, but the child sometimes had mannerisms that definitely were not inherited by her mother or taught…  _No. She's his little girl. Fathers shouldn't think like this about their own child!_  
  
The birth certificate tells him so.  _It's all I have_.  
  
"Okay, Unca'." It's all I have.  _She's more, my child, then that…that bastard's_.   
  
"Now come here, we'd best clean you up before your Momma and Auntie come back, kay girly?" He hugs her and lets her run into the house, noting that Jill's car was gone.  _They must've gone out. Good._  He felt his stomach turn…he wanted to believe the child was imagining things, but the dead body was as real as his mounting fear.   
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
The women had returned about 40 minutes later Chris tossing the bloodied clothing the child wore and the shirt that he wore (also coated in picking her up) into the back of the van. He planned on figuring out what to do with them later away from Jill. He was not going to bring Jill into this – she deserved peace.  
  
As Jill was busy in the kitchen fixing dinner, Sia ran to her Auntie giving Sheva a hug before scooting to her bedroom.  The child pulls out a few sheets of paper along with a box of crayons. She also pulls out a hidden box that her mother let her keep full of faded pictures. The pictures scatter to the floor depicting various locations and people. She pulls out a specific photo placing it to her side. After choosing a fresh sheet of construction paper, Sia starts to color.  
  
Sheva walked into the child's room noticing the scattered pictures. She was surprised Jill even let near those photos. The one laying specifically next to her made the woman do a double take. The depiction of what she only heard from offhand stories and hearsay was still an image of nightmares. And the little girl was merely looking at it as she was looking at a normal picture. She never directly questioned Jill, but like Chris she had her own set of questions – questions she suspected had answers none of them truly wanted to know.   
  
But she pushed that aside curious as to why the child had them out at all. "I see girly girl gonna make a new masterpiece, eh?"  
  
"Yeah, Auntie! I'm making a picture for Daddy so when he stops by he won't be mad."  
  
Before she could stop herself Sheva blurted out, "Little girl. What have I told you about making up tall tales?"  
  
Sia looked up at the woman, a look of confusion on her small face. "But, but Auntie I'm not-"  
  
"No more of that little girl. Your Momma would be awfully hurt hearing you talk of the dead like that." The woman inwardly cringed; she had hopefully averted a crisis- the beast to her knowledge  _was_  dead, well might as well be according to Chris. But she never intended to be the one to tell her this. The woman saw the crestfallen look upon the girl and grabbed her into a bear hug. "Don't cry baby, I meant for your Momma to tell you this but no your Daddy has been dead before you were born."   
  
Sia inwardly cringed… _He was dead? Then…who was that from earlier?_  
  
Sheva went on to say, "Your Momma still hurts for him you know."  
  
"She does?"  
  
"You wonder why she looks so sad?" The child looks down, never understanding the distant looks her Momma made till now. "Well I know she may have talked to you about him, and this information may hurt, but be a big girl right now and hug her when she's like that, ok?"  
  
"Kay Auntie!" She would make Momma feel better.   
  
 _But then…if Sia was right, then Momma won't be sad for long._  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
The group had dinner, the talk keeping to small things like local politics, and the news. Neither of the current BSAA spoke up about any of the happenings concerning Sia, nor did Sia say anything other than "Thanks Momma for the meal." It was a quiet dinner until Jill lamented that she had forgotten to buy items in her last shopping trip. She had begun to go grab a coat and head out to the store but Chris interjected asking if he and Sheva could go in her stead. Sheva found it odd he would just up and want to shop but saw the nervous glint in his eye – he obviously needed to tell her something. So the two guests leave to get the few items on Jill's list.  
  
The sky had turned shades of grey, the clouds overhead pelting soft rain droplets onto the windshield. As they started unlocking the van it followed through on its threat, opening up into a heavy downpour forcing the two to quickly cram inside. As they both sat in the van, Sheva starts up a conversation first as her fingers powered on the engine. They pull off traveling down to the nearby 24-hour supermarket.  
  
Sheva softly lays her hand on his free one, entangling both together. "Okay Chris, what? You've been tense all evening among a bit rude since we've gotten here. What?"  
  
The man sighs, trying to center his thoughts. "I don't know Sheva…that little girl…she truly spooked me today."  
  
"Really? Or is it just her 'Daddy' creeps you out still? I mean your comments were a bit off hand you know."  
  
He lowers his face caught again by the attentive woman's gaze. "I know…but. She still hangs onto him, both of them do. It…it doesn't help what happened today."  
  
"Hrmm?"  
  
"There was…a man I saw from earlier. He didn't look all that threatening but I realized Sia walked off and that man was also suddenly gone. I was about to call the police and found her with him. Him being tangled like a bloody jump rope around a tree."  
  
"Oh God was she ok-"  
  
"That was the thing Sheva. She was more than ok…she was smiling at it, face painting herself with the dead man's guts! She…she said that 'Her Daddy punished him.' I…is it wrong to be a bit unnerved over a child?"  
  
She didn't know what to say to that. But she did let him in on the child's conversation with her earlier. "…She tried to tell me he was coming to see her earlier in her room." Sheva said softly.  
  
"But…that's impossible…I buried him under all that rock and metal…" He leans down onto his phone, having the thing on silence since arriving in Nevada. Both BSAA kept them on in case a grave emergency popped up.   
  
The notice that showed up on his screen counted as a grave emergency.   
  
"Sheva, turn around."  
  
"Chris, wha-"  
  
"Turn the car around now!"   
  
The bunker had sent out an auto alert - it was breached from the inside.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
The storm front hitting the area is raging wildly outside with winds billowing. She had already tucked Sia in and was just sitting up thinking. Thinking about Chris' offhand comments – he just won't let things go, will he? Thinking…pointless, errant things.   
  
 _Thinking about him again._    
  
But that repetitive, empty circle of thought was replaced with unease. After years of relative quiet, she feels as if she was being …watched? Ever since she and Sheva came back from driving around this unnerving feeling had followed her, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. But if she indeed was being watched, whoever it is hasn't made any move yet-  
  
The sound of something being moved catches her attention. She hovers by her bookshelf, a knife hidden within. She stopped carrying guns partly feeling no need – though past 40 she could still hold her own in a hand to hand fight, but mainly refused anything inside her home for Sia's sake. Aside for the odd combat maneuver, she raised her in a peaceful household. That and save for a small-time burglary by a few kids a few streets over the area they lived in was relatively calm.  
  
But the distinct feeling of being watched did not leave her. She turned around, her hand instinctively wrapping around the knife's handle. She was now in combat stance panning around the medium sized living room. In daylight, the room would be bright, full of comforting chairs, books, and the stray toy or doll from Sia's room. But now each piece of furniture, stray item, and everything in the room was shrouded in darkness, the wall showing nothing but the twisting shadows from outside. She moved closer to the light switch hoping that whatever is watching would be spooked away…if it's not already inside…  
  
The woman could feel her heart beating fast; she sucked in a calming breath knowing that keeping ones fear in check is the most important step in a fight against an unknown. But things are different now...there's a child involved.   
  
The sharp sound of movement was distinctly heard behind her. She prepared to swing back her hands positioned close to herself ready to strike. The sleepy blue eyes of the 6-year-old met her tense gaze.  
  
"Momma, I couldn't sleep. The rain is so loud…" The girl rubbed her eyes the child obviously teetering on sleepiness but wanting comfort. Jill inwardly felt the tense state she was in ebb away and pockets the knife out of view of the little girl.  
  
"Girly girl, you know the rain can't hurt you. Go back to bed."  
  
"But Momma, the rainstorm is so loud…please stay with me…just a bit?"   
  
It was hard to tell such cuteness no…and despite the tense situation moments ago walked her back to her room. They sat holding each other, the child happy to just have her mother's company. Within moments the woken up child was back asleep. Jill lightly kissed the top of her head and tucked her in.   
  
She gently closed the door to Sia's room and turned to stare down a ghost of her past.  
  
Darkness covered his form slick with rain. But something, something was off about him that made her ill at ease. The tall figure was crouched to the floor, his head tilted up his lipless maw and stitches glinting in the occasional light flash from the storm outside. He sat, his eye following every move his stance belying aggression.   
  
She slipped her hand into her pocket making sure her movements were slow, deliberate. Jill started to slowly pace to her side, away from the child's door hoping to keep his attention. He looked at her, then to the door, then back to her hand.   
  
She shook her head, wondering why the stance, why the aggression.   
  
 _Doesn't he remember me?_  
  
She saw his pupiless eye narrow and then felt herself bodily knocked back into the wall. She could feel his left hand on her neck around it before she could even register he moved. His face leaned into hers, the look of recognition clear…and yet not enough as he tossed her like a rag doll across into the kitchen.   
  
Her body ached from the hard toss, the feeling of deep bruising already along the side that she was tossed on and around her neck. He wasn't holding back – and by the way he was walking towards her, he came with only one intention and it was not for catching up on old times.   
  
She faintly felt a small displacement of air and then his tall form cornering her, a tentacle snaking out of his right palm.   
  
"Don't …you remember?" She whispered.  
  
Her answer came in the form of the tentacle impaling itself a hair away from her head burrowing inches into the kitchen wall. A deep growl came from him, the murderous glint in his eye saying everything.   
  
 _I understand then._  
  
At one point in time she wanted this, would have welcomed Death's hand…but she had more than herself now. And for that child, she would live, even if she had to kill him again. As he lunged to strike with his left she dodged and rushed his front. He retaliated and pushed her against the wall, the wall crashing into her back. Had he pushed with more force he would have caused damage to her spine.   
  
But half of the dagger that she held was now embedded into his torso.  
  
He looked down…then pushed himself all the way onto it purple dripping onto the floor. The deep baritone growl that came next wasn't aggressive, but almost of pain. Jill doubted it was due to the sharp dagger. An almost hapless look crossed his lipless face, him pinning her painfully to the wall.  
  
"Off." She whispered.  
  
His eye narrowed her knowing he dislikes being commanded; knowing he doesn't have to take anything from her.   
  
"Get. Off!" She shouted ripping the knife out and stabbing him again but in the neck. The Tyrant roared and started to rear his fist – but then began to cup his hands on the sides of his head, the monster sinking to the floor. He was visibly shaking, his body bowed over. Then as suddenly as he sank, he arched backward roaring back, his face contorting in agony.  
  
"What is wrong with you…" the woman whispered, tentatively reaching towards him. He violently pushed himself away, shaking his head at her. The message was clear; but supposedly resolved feelings of loss, longing, despair reared up, clouding her judgment. She hadn't seen him in over 7 years…7 years in which she thought he was dead… _what happened to him?_  
  
She walked closer, closer only to be flung into the eating nook, his fist returning tightly coiled around her neck. She grabbed the knife again, jabbing it into his arm repeatedly – before he knocked it out of her hand it clamoring to the floor. She could feel his fingers closing on her windpipe, dots clouding her vision as her air was sharply cut off. She looked into his face the look of confusion, loss reading from him. She could feel herself giving into blackness… _I'll pass out soon if he doesn't stop…does he want to stop?_  
  
"Momma?"  
  
She could barely register the small voice that cut through the backdrop of the storm, but the tightening around her throat ceased. Jill was dropped to the floor, bruised body choking as air suddenly returned to her.   
  
"Sia…" She barely groaned out.  
  
"Daddy…why?"  
  
The Tyrant looked down at the small child behind him, her eyes pale edging with tears. He sat on the floor, holding his head. The audible sound of him breathing; no hyperventilating was heard. It was if he himself didn't know what he was doing and was in a state of panic. Jill knew that for now staying in close proximity with him was not safe.   
  
The child walked towards the prone Tyrant, laying a small hand on his scalp.  He leaned into the touch it seeming to give a shred of sanity to him. Jill wanted to touch him, to deep down comfort him, to make sure he was real…but saw how his eye seemed to trail her movement. The child was probably the only thing keeping him from leaping onto her again.  
  
 _But why? Why is he attacking now?_  
  
She noted that he isn't showing any aggression towards Sia.   
  
 _Did he know?_    
  
If anything he's an equal opportunity predator, she doubted parentage would stop him - but as soon as the child stepped in he ceased all attack. She slowly moved to the damaged counter, shakily reaching for the phone. She wanted to get both her and Sia out of here, but at the same time…it felt wrong to tear them away like that despite the danger.   
  
Despite the fact that he had every intention of killing her tonight.


	4. SofD - 3 Venus

**Venus**    
  
 _'Will you keep out all the sadness?'_  
  
  
That winged Woman is hovered near the female, staring her down in stony rage. The Woman wants him to,  **demands**  him to strike her down.   
  
 _But…  
  
It is the order of things.   
  
Fix it.  
  
Fix?  
  
Purge it!  
  
I'm tired…  
  
So many things wrong.   
  
It hurts…_  
  
He sat on the floor, clutching the young child to himself. The disappointed tone in the child's voice bothered him deeply. If he could just focus on her tiny voice his mind might overlook the female sitting there so far away. So far but not because she wanted to be… She had reached towards him but he could do nothing but lament the noises in his head.   
  
… _this_  wasn't what he came here for? As soon as she walked out the child's room his bloodlust surged out of nowhere, overwhelming him, overriding his self-control.  
  
The violent urges that screamed  _murder, death, kill, nownownow_  …felt unnatural, forced. The Woman seems to agree with them, pushing him closer to the edge of pure madness. They moment by moment were overwhelming him, screaming shrilly for her blood. The kitchen had damage bearing witness to their wants.  
  
 _But, but it hurt…so badly._    
  
He could see the fresh bruises on her skin, and all he could do was mentally wail against the noises screaming nonstop deep in his mind.   
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
She would catch the conflicted glances from him to her every few seconds the monster literally shaking with his palms to the floor. The little girl had her arms wrapped around him almost in a protective hug. Aside from the troubled look to the child's face, she at least was in no danger. But - there was no telling how long Sia could keep him distracted. She started to reach for the phone…but saw that it had been ripped out of the wall. She had no way of getting help and with her child in his arms could only sit and wait.   
  
But the look in his eye - it hits too close to home. He isn't willingly doing this.  
  
Jill slid down the counter, her body aching, feeling his eye following her every move.   
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
He didn't worry too much about the rocks as he knew his son would make it out. In fact, Simon was pleased with his child's resourcefulness. He didn't improve the intelligence of these units for nothing. The chip within have a small almost microscopic camera within that allowed him to see what his messenger sees.  
  
But so far, all he gathered were questions. This one was at first doing exactly as told; that Redfield was just lucky with that trick he pulled. But ever since the park he has been railing against it. It was subtle at first skipping his intended target to fixate on that little girl. The fact that he even bothered to stop and protect her was very uncharacteristic of him. The fact that he walked off only killing some random person was interesting. Then Simon noted that the B.O.W. was trailing the car that Redfield and the child drove in. A smart move he had to admit. This led him to the Valentine household.  
  
But Valentine…she might as well been unarmed on top of being out of practice the woman too comfortable in civilian life. It should have been an easy kill as he nearly crushed her windpipe. But on the monitors, every warning possible flared up. He had never seen such a flare since Raccoon.   
  
 _Was this unit fighting the directives?_    
  
And what was all that about the little girl? The child's voice barely picked up on the camera but seemed to regard the unit in a friendly manner. He had stopped all aggression as soon as she appeared. The result caused a near shut down of the Tyrant's parasitic brain. Never has a unit tried to fight the chip so violently before. The man leaned into his chair, intrigued by this – curious as to what really was going on in his  _son's_  brain.   
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
Jill heard the knock at the door; the young child had fallen asleep in the Tyrant's arms. But almost oblivious to the violence he had caused, he stayed with the little girl in an almost protective fatherly pose. As much as she didn't want her or him out of sight, Jill knew that at least he would not attack Sia.   
  
She slowly and deliberately backed away from the two walking towards the foyer. As soon as she moved, she again felt the deliberate glare of his eye at her back. Out of the corner of her eye, she could barely see him faintly shift, the urge to rise and follow her evidently. But the child shifted along with him, clinging to him tightly. Despite dwarfing her, he shifted back down not willing to toss her off his lap.  
  
But he still stared at Jill. A pained look; a look of pure  _what to do now?_  plastered across his face. To that, Jill had no true answer. Only the sinking feeling that whoever did this made double sure that he would obey this time. She could almost imagine the cage he was now in.  _Cages aren't meant for wild things._  
  
The woman slowly inched to the large door, letting in the bedraggled and rain drenched two inside. Both carried injector guns in their hands. Both newcomers looked to the living area with looks of confusion. Jill turned around – and saw Sia placed on the sofa asleep - but the Tyrant was nowhere to be found.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
As soon as she realized the B.O.W. was absent, Jill slowly slid to the floor in her exhaustion. "Jill!" Chris gasps catching before she fully collapsed onto the floor. He lifts her to the living room while Sheva ran to the bathroom rummaging for first aid sprays.  
  
"Did you…did you know about this?" Jill murmured into his shoulder. He laid her downward already noting the look of discomfort though well hidden on her features.  
  
His answer was tired, strained. "…Yes." He had shifted, trying to lift her upwards to give the woman comfort. She shifted to look up at him, the gesture ignored. Their eyes met for a moment before she looked away. He could only stare uncomfortably at the wall, her eyes reading nothing but anger if not faint resentment.  
  
"You knew, and didn't warn us?"   
  
"…I didn't think…"Sheva had returned with an armful of sprays, the other two talking in hushed tones.  
  
" **Of course you didn't!!** " She said lowly, restrained the urge to scream at the man if only to not rouse the child sleeping peacefully on the sofa.  
  
Chris could only bow his head in regret. He never expected this to backfire so spectacularly. "It…he shouldn't have gotten out…." He should have given the Tyrant more credit. The very woman now sprawled on the floor had remarked how damn determined he was in a pursuit – a bunch of rock only slowed him down and probably agitated him further.  
  
"You could've given warning Chris…something, a fucking head's up to protect me and my child!" Jill softly hissed wincing at the sharp pain in her side.  
  
"He took out three teams, and seemed very determined to take me out."  
  
"He directly attacked you and other team members?  _Unprovoked_?" The sound of disbelief coated her voice.  
  
"Yeah…he seemed to specifically be gunning after me. It took heavy deterrent fire and a bit of luck to trap him. It seemed almost…almost like he was sidestepping other targets to specifically get at me. I didn't think he'd escape and trail all the way here!"   
  
"God. This wasn't exactly how I planned on-" Jill had to bite back the urge to scream, talking was already taxing, and her body was finally demanding her to rest. But finding out this information leads her to one conclusion.  
  
He was ever only this single target minded in Raccoon. Only in Raccoon could she recall him just attacking unprovoked shy of defending himself. She didn't know much about him …but was well aware of the way he was assigned orders and commands. Or rather imputed them from the scant files she had found in the dropped files from the 'Superiors' in Raccoon.  
  
Someone…someone turned on his directives.  
……………………………………………………………………………………………....  
  
  
The rest of the night was spent patching up Jill's injuries, mainly numerous black bruises along her pale skin. She was lucky in that more pressing things such as ribs or organs were not damaged. A full can of First Aid Spray was used to lessen her injuries as well as fading the large palm-shaped bruises along her neck. Sia had stayed asleep where the B.O.W. placed her and was moved gently to her room by Sheva.   
  
Chris had insisted on patrolling the parameter of the house expecting him to return. The monster was ruthless; to expect him to up and leave was not likely. The BSAA returned inside his expression full of anger and agitation.  
  
Jill had retrieved the knife from the wood floor, covered in purple. She sat staring at it for a good long while until Sheva placed her hand lightly on her shoulder.   
  
"You ok Jill?"  
  
"I…" Jill places her head between her hands trying to suss out her mind. She for over 7 years tried to come to terms with herself, her thoughts towards a creature that now for all intents and purposes was 'working as intended'. But some part of her expected things to be alright, that if he had magically survived it would in her bizarre fantasy work out. But…she almost died tonight, died in right front of her child.  
  
She should be angry, ready to hunt him down. All B.O.W.s are just targets to be mowed down or to be…used…  
  
No. If it was just that he had returned to what he was designed for her mind would've had an easier time of it. But the looks of outright pain, confusion – those reactions were not of her imagination. He didn't want to attack. She looked up at Sheva her face a mix of confusion and pity. "I'm ok. But he  _isn't_."  
  
As soon as those words came out Chris let loose a response of his own, his voice rising in disbelief. "That bastard beat you in front of that child and you feel  _sorry_  for him!?"  _Really Jill? Fishing up apologies for him already?_  
  
"Chris! You'll wake her!" Sheva hissed at him; her face was starting to show irritation as well, but directed at the temperamental man.   
  
"I don't care! Maybe if they get it through their heads that thing is a monster and nothing more they can move on with their lives!"  
  
"He didn't mean it, Chris." the tired woman countered in a low whisper, "If he did…he would've finished me regardless of Sia."  
  
"Chris. Stop it. She's in shock and you're yelling at her." Sheva snapped.  
  
"Maybe…" He said softer, "Maybe she needs to be, needs to be shocked so that she can see what the rest of us sees. Maybe time has clouded her judgment romanticizing him from what he is – he's a monster, Jill!"   
  
"I looked him point blank in the eye, Chris. He wasn't in control of himself."  
  
"You sound like an abuse victim."  
  
At this, her temper flared. "And you sound like the prince still trying to save me from myself. I know what I saw, Chris. Stop second guessing me!"  
  
Chris leans and takes the knife out of her hand. He held it up to her face the caked on purple coating the blade down to its pommel. " _This_. Is this what your prince charming forces you to do Jill? To defend yourself? If that's not abusive I don't know what is."  
  
Jill looked up at him, her blue eyes narrowed. "No.  _That_ ," grabbing the blade back, "Is me defending against what an outside enemy has forced him to become. Or," pulling open the top of her top exposing her P30 scars, "going by your reasoning I should be put down as an abuser too? I mean I did almost snap your neck. Kick you in the face. Tried to take you out for the enemy…"  
  
"…you weren't in your-"  
  
"-right mind? I know. Neither was he." Chris looked at her exasperated, knowing that on certain topics fighting with Jill was useless. The Tyrant was one of them. The next sentence took him aback.  
  
"Do you remember where Josh and his teams found him?"  
  
"Not off hand but why?"  
  
"I'm thinking of going on a field trip. There has to be some information about him."  
  
"You're injured and already plan on limping off?"   
  
"Sitting here is only inviting another attack; he obviously knows where I live now. I'd rather go out and risk attack injured  _doing something_  than be a sitting duck here with our child in the crossfire."  
  
"What, I'm surprised  _things_  like him don't eat their young," Chris lowly hisses out.    
  
Sheva shot him another glare visibly annoyed with him. Yes, the other woman's defense of the B.O.W. was frustrating, but fighting about it was wasting time and breath. "Josh told me they picked the place clean of both B.O.W.s and files when they found him," Sheva admitted. The woman was deep down worried about her friend – she despite the spray didn't look as worn as Chris but the clear damage was still there along with her side and neck.  
  
"I'd rather show up to an empty room; there's a chance something was left behind. Knowing Umbrella they're either extremely sloppy or extremely protective of their information, especially on experimental types. I'm betting on the latter in his case." Jill countered.  
  
"But you're retired. The BSAA won't clear you," the visibly agitated man stated. Unlike Sheva even entertaining the notion of the battered woman going anywhere, much less to help a monster just angered him deeply. But he knew that the blond once decided on something would not budge - just like him.   
  
"But you're the area lead. And I'm a past operative. I ...have to help him. If not for him then for if anything keeping Sia safe from future incidents. Please...where is it located?"  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
Pain. It was the only thing she could focus on as a constant. The only thing that wasn't perverted or twisted – not yet. The feel of one mark, then two then a third criss cross onto her permanently whitened skin. The knife, a simple box cutter this time cut deep into a layer of skin her mind registering the agonizing burn.  
  
The dark sheets hide the older droplets that splattered noisily down from her alter of scars old and newly given, the drops adding to the barely visible one of sessions old. Her body lay flat, passive not so much as flinching. He wouldn't allow it. His perfect doll isn't allowed that freedom.   
  
But her mind, her mind was allowed to scream for it, her mind edging on shattering but her strength her damn stubborn inner strength was the only thing that kept her from insanity. Maybe if she broke he would get tired of her, and finally toss her away.   
  
 _Maybe_.  
  
But now...right now she had his attention, his cruel unsated attention the knife cutting with his red and gold eyes following each trail in rapt interest. And she could do nothing but scream inside. His tongue trailed some wounds making the pain return anew, making the living hell as his doll never end –  
  
Jill snapped awake, her body trembling, her body remembering each cut, each bruise, each time afterward the filthy hands that forced her down and used her in picture perfect clarity. The thin long tee that she wore to bed clung to her in her cold sweat. Years after the fact and still such memories brought her to her knees. She had buried her face into her pillow the emotions that came with them too much.   
  
Despite the new bruises she now wore because of  _him_ , at least in his case she could see something were terribly wrong. Unlike the monster in her dreams…she could see the conflict; the mental fight. The caged look in his eye reflected the exact opposite of his actions. She needed to find out more about him to help him.   
  
 _No one deserved to be used like a doll.  
  
Not even him._  
………………………………………………………………………………..  
  
  
The next morning was full of tension, the three adults still unsettled from the previous day's events. They all expected another attack but so far heard nothing from last night's visitor. All three rose earlier than normal hoping to figure things out before Sia awoke. All agreed the less stress on her, the better. This was one of the main reasons they decided that Chris stay behind with Sia. Despite his posturing, he was recovering from deeper injuries than Jill. That and Sheva knew the location from talking with Josh over the phone. They were to take Jill's car leaving Chris a way to drive around if needed. Sheva had already offered to drive wanting to give the blond at least some time to recuperate.  
  
Deep down Jill just didn't want to deal with Chris second-guessing her the whole way.  
  
He, of course, asked for Jill to just stay home and let him go, but the former BSAA insisted on going, saying that 'she knew what she was looking for'. He could only sit and watch as they both left. They planned on being gone for a few days; Chris had his phone off of silence and had initially planned on taking both himself and Sia to a local hotel.   
  
But as much as he would have liked to relocate, he knew the Tyrant would more than likely find them; and the less innocent bystanders that got caught in the crossfire the better. He had pulled an injector gun he had packed from the back of the van as a limited safety precaution. It was better than nothing. But more importantly, it was proven that somehow Sia kept the B.O.W. from attacking. At least in Jill's case; Chris could only hope that rule applied to himself.  
  
The small child had risen up; the women already finished packing up for the trip. "Momma where are you and Auntie going?" She wiped across her eyes, still sleepy despite the violence that went on last night. At least out of everything going on she seemed ok.  
  
"On a small trip for a few days. Don't worry you'll get to have a few days having fun with your Uncle."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yup. You can even get him to take you to the park." Jill smiled, repressing the pain that came from her still healing side.   
  
Sia looked up into Jill's face her normal buoyant smile suddenly absent. The child's face only read concern and worry. "It's about Daddy isn't it?"  
  
Jill could only look down at the child, before kneeling on the floor grabbing her in a deep hug. "Yeah girly." She whispered.  
  
"You know he didn't mean it, right Momma?"  
  
"I know." She strokes the child's back, the child clinging to her close. "Be…be strong for me baby, ok?" The child saw the barely concealed sadness that crossed the woman's face. Her small arms circled her mother's, her head leaning on Jill's shoulder.  
  
"I will Momma." The child felt her mother's warmth encircle her as well as the feeling that the woman was barely holding back tears. Sia had never been apart from her mother for such an extended amount of time. But if it meant fixing things, she could wait.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
The two had driven to the location where all  _this_  began, the large underground lab hidden by overgrown brush and trees. It was a lengthy drive for Sheva as she insisted on Jill to rest up. Jill during their rest stops could feel the use of the first aid sprays taking hold, her bruised muscles slowly healing. If she had more time she would have went to the hospital for a more in-depth checkup. But the ex BSAA had learned from her time on the field to trust her gut instinct. And right now they were telling her that she was running on borrowed time.  
  
The entrance was not typical of Umbrella labs; instead of being a small medical facility, or a dummy office building with a concealed lower half, this building had a well-hidden entrance hidden amongst the wood and grass. The area was purposely overgrown to deter any investigation from the well-camouflaged entrance.  _Sometimes the best hiding spots are places in plain view_ , Jill mused.  
  
"The elevator inside should be right…here." Sheva had brushed across what looked like an abandoned cylinder of some kind overgrown with weeds. A barely noticeable keypad appearing broken with wiring and scratches denoted the faint inseam of a hidden door. Jill could see how this place went unnoticed for as long as it had. Hopefully, it stayed that way for the years after its discovery. The BSAA normally only bother to clear out any threats inside a lab; the lab itself is marked onto a list of found locations in the off chance it was necessary to return again. Destroying a found lab except in extreme circumstances was outside of their jurisdiction the extermination of bioweapons their top priority.  
  
They slip inside the lid rising upward like a propped open car trunk, two of its sides propped open by oversized metal rods. A few steps down was indeed an elevator, dusty and a bit rusted from nonuse. A simple button pad with arrows for both 'up' and 'down' was the only thing that was onto the plain hydraulic lift elevator.   
  
"Ready?" Sheva spoke breaking the silence between them. Both shifted their backpacks; Sheva loaning Jill a spare injector gun and Beretta.   
  
"Yeah. Let's go." Jill wasn't in the mood for talking; her mind was focused and was determined for answers. The lift creaking out its protests of age lowered the two deep into the bowels of the hidden lab.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
The place was full of more dust, nonworking computers, papers, and various other things denoting the passage of time and neglect. The place was a simple one-floor lab; full of rooms, broken test tubes. The faint traces of footprints coated the floor, as well as tracks marks from it, seemed a stretcher trailing from a place far back.   
  
Despite it being a one floor the lab panned extremely far back. More than likely Umbrella built against the natural incline of the land forcing builders to stretch out not down as in normal labs. The two fanned out checking rooms individually looking for where they would have housed him.   
  
Sheva noted that the footsteps while mostly even were jumbled around the back west of the hidden network of rooms. "Jill…come this way. I think I may have found it."  
  
The faint footprints and scuff marks were clustered closer together the further in as if a rush of people had gathered then rushed inside. Jill walked to the far back room stepping inside with Sheva. The room was just as dusty as the others but in disarray. Papers, tables, stretchers were thrown about. One stretcher had visible denting, the imprinting that of a large mass denting the center of it and the edges baring  _nail marks_  along it. The flip side of the metal warped stretcher was coated with visible brown stains.  
  
In fact, the floor, walls, and equipment were ranging from faintly to heavily coated in old brown spatter. Brown that was at one time the shade of red…that the two were certain was from when the Tyrant was woken up. Jill recalled sneering at him, remarking on him not liking to be woken up – the room here made the image of that event violently clear.   
  
But as much as she wanted to ponder the event she came here for answers other than the obvious. A smaller open hall branched off the room, with a small storage room located at the end. Computers lined the walls, the systems at one point in time full of vitals and stats. Most of them had all but stopped functioning due to age, or barely ran the systems corrupted. Save for one. It flickered the monitor surprisingly not burned in. Sheva sat down to tinker with it hoping to find some information.  
  
Jill meanwhile spotted a few file cabinets to the back; she doubted that the scientists here kept everything to computer. If anything the papers may contain notes, not on 'official' record.   
  
On the worn computer Sheva had found a large folder named 'B.O.W. specimens T-103 – Nemesis T-Type 2003'. Clicking it opened a larger directory displaying various models. She scrolled through the large number of listings cringing internally at the sheer amount of subjects listed here; stopping on the folder they both were looking for.  
  
"Hmm, Jill. We may have a problem."  
  
"You find anything?" The blond had her hands in piles of papers, digging through the dusty files.  
  
"That's the thing. I see the folder, but nothing is in it."  
  
Jill dropped the papers, walking towards the dusty PC. Sat open was a folder titled 'NEMESIS Project'. But within it was nothing. Absolutely nothing. "Why would they keep a file like that just blank?" Jill fought hard to repress the frustration from coating her features.  _They needed that inf-_  "Hey see that?" Jill moved the mouse cursor over the folder;  _time edited…_  
  
"Someone edited this…7 years ago?" Sheva murmured.  
  
"Yeah. Someone who had to be aware he was with the BSAA. But why would they unless they knew something?" Jill didn't guess - she knew someone else was involved now. "Hey check the other files for any staff. I'm going to finish hunting through these damn papers."  
  
"Alright." Sheva closes the blank file; her eyes landing on a folder holding in-depth lab procedural notes many of them mentioning a Ghandon amongst them. But all of the notes talked of him as if deceased. The notes implied that he was project lead and maintainer of the now empty folder. "Well, that sucks. I keep seeing this Ghandon guy repeatedly mentioned but it lists him as dead."  
  
Jill meanwhile is engrossed in a few sheets of yellow paper. The papers were rather mundane maintenance briefs; noting various dosages, movement, it made it read as if he was just sleeping the whole time. The dates ran from 1999 but stopped abruptly at 2003. Notes were listed on who was involved in the creation, care, and maintenance of him. A long list of names was along the sheet, but one popped up as familiar.  
  
"You said Ghandon right?"  
  
"Yeah, says he lead the project but died around 1999."  
  
"But this list notes him as awol, not deceased." In fact, save for this, almost all the notes had black smudge marks as if the papers had been edited. Each edit was of the same length as the name. "The notes I have here have him as awol…or edited out."  
  
"That's odd. Also, they just say deceased in 1999, no date, no cause, or any other mentions. And a few of these notes have gaps of information missing."  Sheva and Jill shared a look.  
  
"Mr. Ghandon must've either did something to cause Umbrella's ire, or mysteriously dropped off the face of the earth. All these edits point to a cover-up. But it seems whoever tried to delete him out didn't do a thorough enough job," the dark-skinned woman remarked.  
  
"Well, it seems we're going to have to find him and suss that out…" Jill mused, the quest for information becoming more complex by the minute. But something didn't sit right in her mind. Ghandon, assuming he's alive would have to have been right up on them to delete the files off like that. The date of deletion was almost a week and a half to the day the Tyrant had 'died' in Arizona.   
  
The two started to gather all they found into their backpacks walking out of the room. Sheva had walked outside first, Jill gathering the files back together off the floor. "Hey, Jill I'm going to head to the car alright?"  
  
"Yeah let me neaten up this mess."  
  
"Seems your Mom instincts are kicking in; cleaning after the dirtiest child ever."  
  
"Yeah hah." Jill began to walk towards the door – right as it suddenly shut in front of her. "Sheva?" The sound of banging on the other side answered her response. She could faintly hear the muffled yells of the BSAA through the thick metal. That became of secondary concern as the sound of a deep and very clear growl filled the room.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, Jill peered down the open hall, the only available place she could run. But as to the sound…she slides out her Beretta, the injector gun packed inside her backpack. Pushing down the years old feeling of deja vu, she swings behind herself pointing her gun point blank at the Tyrant's head.   
  
He had hidden in the thin hallway; thus blocking that exit and trapping her inside the brown splattered lab. She was trapped with what amounted to a pea shooter and sedative with a monster that she still knew little about.  
  
The Tyrant slunk closer to the woman, his mere presence seeming to overwhelm the room. He moved with purpose seeming to circle Jill using intimidation tactics to try and throw her off. But Jill kept calm; neutral. He'd have to work harder than that to get a reaction out of her.  
  
The lone pupil-less eye was lidded in a thin slit, the look of concentration on his features. They both knew how the other worked – which made the situation all the more dangerous. With sudden speed, he lashed out a large tentacle landing to the side of her face. The whip-like appendage struck air again lashing out yet hesitating to fully strike her. But she did not flinch nor step back.   
  
He growled in irritation realizing that she was not going to give him any ground. She saw through this tactic still having the gun fully trained to his head. Still, they circled. Her blue eyes narrowed her gaze not leaving his. Both were trying to wait for the other to slip just like in Raccoon, just like in the White Room.   
  
The closed door came to life as the sound of Sheva using something heavy against it clanged through the room. The banging was loud, screeching. Jill saw the telltale twitch in his eyelid; the sign that he was going to charge – and ducked under his arm sprinting to the back hall. Tentacles from under his coat lashed outward barely missing her legs.  
  
She could feel him almost on top of her as he chased her down the hall. She was almost there the hall feeling like it was extending longer and longer her throat burning with exertion. She saw a thin table and kicked it over. He didn't see it but it did enough to trip him in his pursuit. Jill used this momentary stun to dive into the automated look storage room her presence triggering its closure. The door seemed to slide as slow as it could the Tyrant doubling his speed to beat the closing metal doors.   
  
He could only slide a tentacle between the reinforced metal doors before it fully closed cutting the appendage cleanly in half. Jill had made it inside her temporary haven. The thin reinforced glass slit at the center of the door reflected the inhuman rage of the monster locked outside.  
  
Jill could only take a small breath placing her gun back into its holster. She spent a moment glancing around the room before the sound of soft clawing reverberated in the small storage room. He was racking his nails against the glass and metal door in desperation, before placing his stitched face against it. A small whimper came from the outside then, a sound that came with it the slight fogging of glass. He followed her movements with his eye with a look of almost pure want running across his features. He was pawing the glass with his hand almost as if he was begging now, the violent glint to his face suddenly gone.   
  
And for a moment…she wanted to believe him and unlock that door.   
  
But Jill started to walk towards the back shaking her head in disbelief.  _No. Not until you're well._  She began to walk to the back of the room walking further away from the metal doors – the look of murderous rage returning to his face.  
  
The room suddenly filled with the sound of hard banging against the door. Dots of purple were starting to coat the window as he began banging his face against it. The door as reinforced as it was would not hold up against him forever. She searched desperately now needing either a very useful item or a way out,  _now_.   
  
The banging intensifies as he started to use his full body against the door already showing visible signs of it bowing inwards. She in his banging finds a ventilation shaft, pulling on the grating. The door is starting to make sounds of breaching before the thick metal and glass fall inward barely staying on their hinges.   
  
The Tyrant barges in just as she slips inside the vent closing it silently behind her.  
  
He sniffs the air trying to place her, the female's scent filling the air. He wants her, needs her… _has to have her!_  The shrill noises fill his head constantly now; his mind feeling ripped in two. He just wants to hold her… _but the noises they want more, more blood more, more, more!_  He put his head into his hands the confusion, the contrasting thoughts overwhelming him again.  _If he finds her, will the noises stop? Will She be happy?_  
  
The faint sound of metal causes him to focus. He destroyed the door and could not see her anywhere…until his eye looks up to the small network of metal ceiling vents. The monster scans the room seeing the boxy metal paths that hung flush to the exposed ceiling. He concentrates on the faint sound walking quietly to where the sound was most likely coming from.   
  
The B.O.W. stops in front of a portion that ended by the ruined door. He trails a finger down a portion of the vent shaft the faint movement of metal catching his eye. He licks his teeth in amusement, the predator pleased at such a tactic.  _Only his female would try and pull off such a trick._  And with sheer strength he begins to rip each section of the vent down, the tale tell sound of her hastily crawling filling the room.   
  
Not expecting her path to be literally ripped out from under her, Jill starts to quickly crawl down another path arriving at a closed off grate with a fan behind it. Half the vent she crawled in now sat in shambles on the floor a small metal lip left in front of the grate. She pushes herself behind the large metal grate as he leaps up to sit face to face with her, the gate the only thing separating her from him. He growls in frustration, letting a tentacle slide through one of the holes.   
  
But instead of impaling her it strokes her softly against the face.   
  
The monster drops to the floor, backing up. He looks up to just stare at her, the look of pure conflict on his face. He had his hands to the sides of his head again, rocking in pain. This was followed by him roaring upwards to her, and then him turning away to physically slam his head against the wall. Flinching from the display, Jill backs up closer to the fan.  _He could have easily killed me then…but didn't._  
  
This reprieve was short lived as he then jumps back up trying to rip off the grate. The sound of metal being pried open along with a feminine voice grunting with the exertion behind him catches them both off guard; Sheva runs in finding the two in their struggle. The woman could only stare at the monster seeing him in full, the sight throwing her off momentarily. But Sheva regrouped quickly, aiming her gun at the Tyrant. He drops down eying the athletic woman, before quickly charging her knocking her bodily into the side of a crate.   
  
At the distraction, Jill jumps down pulling out the injector gun from her pack. The Tyrant turns around back towards Jill, standing in full at seeing this. He stares her down walking closer to the blond. It was as if he almost doesn't believe she would do it. He growls lowly at her as her grip on the gun faintly starts to shake.   
  
He began to sprint again but was met with a full 12 ccs of Invidia unloaded into him. She kept shooting even as he bit his own tongue. This causes him to drool purple trying to use the pain to override the sedative's effects. But despite this, the Invidia slowly brought him down to the floor.   
  
He looks up at her, his mind hazy as Jill walks towards him. She leans down to him sprawled on the floor. He begins to fidget, confused, tired, wanting to …wanting…  
  
'Shh…' She's hovering on top of him now, stroking his scalp. He tries to move, but her soft hands held him in place. 'Shhh….' She leans onto his forehead staring deeply into his eye. He finds himself being pushed to the floor, Jill following downward lying on top of him. She softly strokes his face, then pins his arms back behind him.  
  
She kisses him upon the forehead and he lays flat in surrender, wanting her badly just wanting this, nothing more. Her hair had loosened from its customary ponytail, fanning out in that odd blond color. It shimmered almost making a makeshift curtain around them…then it started to bleed…the platinum curtain from the tips to her roots staining a dark almost black brown. Her eyes once a deep peaceful blue faded paler and paler till becoming a deathly white like his lone one. They looked down at him with a gaze dead and cold. His hands are bound not by her hands now, but by a silver chain.  
  
To his left feet away was his female in a kneeling position, sitting beside the bloodied sword his tormentor wielded. If he could talk he would have called to her. If he could move he would have run to her. But he could only lay useless as the Woman whose wings were slowly growing out from pale skin raised up from him to walk towards her.   
  
'This is your fate. You must not defy what is due.' The Woman softly murmured in his direction.  
  
He struggles harder, the female unmoving, passively staring up at the Woman, Her gaze, Her judgment absolute. A whisper, soft yet final came forth –  
  
'You have broken the Law, and must live with the consequences. It is for the best.'  
  
His female looked up, and nodded lowering her head; the sword held in Her judging hand rose grazing along her nape.  
  
He could only watch helplessly as the Woman raised the blade, glinting in blood ages old, and bring it down killing his mate.  
  
He awoke his lone eye wide but his movement sluggish and uncoordinated.  
  
Jill shoots up not expecting him to so quickly wake.  _He looks so…he looks to be almost rabid_  - she wants to help but has no idea how. She thought she could register the look of actual fear on his face.  _Tyrants don't fear…_ whatever was programmed into him – she wanted to scream in her frustration. Sheva had in the time he was out recovered, getting up from the hard toss the woman limping on her right leg. A spray was heard as she used the healing contents to mend the injury.  
  
To the amazement of Sheva, Jill reaches to stroke his scalp. Despite the out of it look to his features, he shifts to pull away from the light touch. He slowly reached up to brush away her hand… Fear then pain crossed his face in succession as he suddenly flings his hands on the ground digging his nails into the floor. He growls at Jill in a low almost mournful tone; a warning. He sees the Woman impatiently pointing towards the blond, the ringing sound ratcheting up in intensity again.  
  
This prompts the two women to back away from him. They start walking, then running down the hall, it seeming like an eternity as the sound of him screaming in pain echoed down through the dead place. Trailing after that were sounds of a more pressing matter – the sounds of crashing and destruction.   
  
They make it to the elevator the doors shifting closed. The worn machinery trudges upwards, the two women spent from their flight. That is until tentacles start to spike through the worn metal floor. The purple appendages push through the floor becoming more and more accurate. Both stop moving to make it harder for him to get at them.   
  
The feelings of being overwhelmed, of feeling useless flood Jill's mind. She came here to help him but came up with merely a name of a possibly dead scientist. The tentacles pierce closer and closer, aiming within inches of them. This feeling...she had never felt it so acutely in battle before - but it rose all the same. The overwhelming anger at it all boiled over, hysteria causing Jill to hold her head in her hands.   
  
"Just stop it…I can't help you," Jill whispers. Sheva leans down to hold her, the blond shaking in her hands. Suddenly her voice rises to a shriek the feelings too much to contain. "I can't …can't help you…Just stop. Stop! STOP IT!  **Stop it damn you!?** "   
  
"Jill…" The other woman holds her trying to calm her down, feeling the other's frustrated tears land onto her shoulder. The shock of seeing him, the shock of being attacked, of everything she knew and being helpless to do anything about it came crashing down onto her all at once. Despite her outburst, Sheva noted that he had momentarily ceased attacking. The battered metal elevator came to a screeching halt, the two seeing daylight again.  
  
Sheva quickly guides her out, rushing them both to the car. The real fear of him following was on both of their minds as they both piled in and sped off in Jill's car.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
The blades of the military chopper whir to life, the pilot flying up the two bedraggled passengers from the flaming hell below. 'Better buckle up kids, this is shaping to be a bumpy ride.' Barry chimes trying to alleviate the somber mood all inside the craft presently felt.  
  
Raccoon's time was up.   
  
Fate had looked upon the sleepy small town and judged it harshly turning it into a city of death, pain, and loss. Warm hands tried to encircle her, but Jill lightly pushed him away. Carlos merely leaned close, the look of sadness mixing with his concern.   
  
'Are you alright, chica?'  
  
'No. I don't think I'll ever be.' She whispered, her voice choking with emotion. 'Everything I knew, most of the people I worked with, cared about or loved are dead. And I could do nothing about it. Nothing at all but save my own ass.'  
  
'Don't talk like that Jill, there was nothing you could have done.'  
  
'Really? I mean I tried Carlos, I tried to save them, tried to warn them. If we just had more proof, more time…!' She tried to save even those already deemed lost - even if the available options garnered the same result.  
  
'So playing the blame game with yourself is better? I doubt those countless dead down there would've benefited from that option. Sometimes it's not about saving others, but yourself.'  
  
She couldn't give him a counter to that answer. Jill could only lean to the side, watching the nuke make its slow course descending from the sky before seeing everything she knew light up in a glorious ring of flame.  
  
She awoke in the same position inside her own car, with tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.


	5. SofD - 4 The Sun

**The Sun**    
  
 _'...you know what it feels like when all your teeth are falling out really slowly and you don't realize and then you notice that, well, they're really far apart. And then one day... you don't have any teeth anymore.'_  
  
  
"Unca' Chris, when will Momma and Auntie be back again?" The two were in the child's room, coloring together on the floor. The park was still off limits as a murder instigation was underway due to the found body. That was in a way for the best; Chris would rather if it came to it fight in a controlled area. But the quiet mood was now broken by the child's sudden question.  
  
"When they find what they're looking for, little girl."  
  
"Do you miss Momma?" For a moment Chris regarded that.  _Yes, I do. I have for a long, long time._  
  
"Of course. She worries me sometimes but she's a strong lady. She'll be back before you know it."  
  
"Do you miss Auntie?"   
  
"Well yeah. Of course. I miss them both."  
  
"Will you and Auntie get married someday?" His face read of slight surprise, not expecting such a personal question.   
  
"That's a strange question, little girl. I –I'm not sure we're ready for that! Besides, you can love each other and not be 'officially married' you know. But I suppose someday we will."  _I suppose…? Such an innocent question…without an innocent answer._  
  
"I bet Momma would marry Daddy if she could."   
  
At this Chris held in the revulsion that rose from deep down. He promised himself long ago that he wouldn't; that he would try his best to not down talk that beast while Sia was around.  _But where was he now? Rampaging around killing random bystanders – what a great role model._  He could only hug her close, wishing for once she would call him Daddy instead. Chris was so deeply immersed in his thoughts that the next question from the young girl almost didn't catch his attention.  
  
"Do you think Momma can help Daddy?"  
  
He stops to stare at the young child, eyes that held no judgment, eyes that saw the world through a limited filter of childlike happiness. As much as he knew his answer, the truth of what he felt withered against the child's eyes, wanting comfort, not honesty.  
  
"I don't know, Sia. I honestly don't."  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
                                                                                
  
Jill had rubbed her eyes, the faint tears wiped away against her dust and sweat-stained top. She had lost it there, lost it and felt her mind begging to shut down. She didn't expect herself to just break like that. She hadn't let out such despair since…since that night. That night was cathartic, freeing…  
  
 _Freedom for just a moment._  
  
She turned to see Sheva quietly driving. Looking at some of the signs they passed they were maybe 3 hours away from town.  
  
"Thanks for scooping me up there."  
  
The driver chuckled. "Like I was going to leave you in there Jill. I'm surprised you kept it together since he came back. You've been through some shit I don't even know if I could make it out of."  
  
"But I should not have flipped out like that. I could've gotten us killed."  
  
"Jill. It's ok. We can't always be strong. We can't always go with the wind. All of us have a breaking point…I'm just glad I was there to help you through it."  
  
A deep smile crossed the ex BSAA's face. "Thanks."  
  
"Chris would've done the same even though he'd say exactly what I just did with more of that smoker's voice he gets after a pack."  
  
They both laugh, the brevity lightening up the mood between them since the lab.   
  
"About him. How long has it been now, 8 years?"  
  
"Yeah." A look of guilt crosses Sheva's face, the way it all happened still not one of her prouder moments.  
  
"Don't look like that. I forgave you for that, remember?"  
  
"Yeah. I still will never forgive myself for it though. You two were dealing with things. I didn't mean for it, and yet I still feel like a vultu-"   
  
"Listen to me. If you didn't come along who knows what would've happened. Maybe we would have been together still in a dead relationship. Maybe we could've worked it out. I don't know. But listen when I say this. I didn't break it off because of you. I broke it off because I …I wasn't the girlfriend he needed. He needed someone to be there. You were. I wasn't. And you must be what he needed to be together for so long."  
  
Sheva was focused on the road, but the slight working of her jaw caught Jill's eye. "Yeah. I'm the woman he  _wants_." Her voice took on a slightly bitter tone. "I mean, yeah we're in the middle of fighting and surviving what the world throws at us…but no ring, no acknowledgment, no 'this is my fiancé Sheva'. Nothing. I feel like all this time I've done all the work, you know?"  
  
"He's oblivious. He's the kind of guy that forgets birthdays with a post-it note stuck to the head." Jill noted Sheva's jaw working harder, the woman's posture tight. She and Sheva would have these chats every so often. At first, it was off-putting to Jill; helping an ex's current girlfriend in their relationship troubles was in so many ways awkward.   
  
But at times she herself wondered about the man. Even before the current situation, they seemed a bit distant. They were openly affectionate and all, but at times Chris seemed to ignore the other BSAA. But a deeper concern at times would rise whenever he would insist on doing things with Sia - at times she wondered if he had forgotten that he was the child's Uncle; not her Father. It was at first endearing…but his feelings seemed to be deeply invested, feelings she wished stopped there.   
  
"I want to believe that Jill. But I see his eyes light up every time we come to visit Sia and you. I mean I wish I could have a family, the house, the whole nine but business calls. We have physical chemistry, but I sometimes wonder outside of that, what are we?"  
  
And now that Sheva was voicing her concerns about it yet again, Jill wondered if there was any real merit to the other woman's complaints. But instead of answering, the blond reached to lightly touch the woman's shoulder to give the tired woman her support.   
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
 _Brother…middle brother? Do you still care? Do you still think of us? Or are we so low to you as to not exist? We cried even though we lost more. We cried for him too you know.  
  
Middle brother…  
  
It's ok. …will save us all. Even if we have to hurt in order to save._  
  
….  
  
The car rolls up into the Valentine residence around 3 am. The house sitting atop a small hill had neighbors but was placed such that houses were generously spaced apart giving the area a rural look. The area they lived in was a bit in the 'country'; having houses blocks apart so that the feeling of isolation and privacy was there despite the minutes drive to a neighbor, store, or park. This was a selling point of the house but in light of current events more of a curse than a blessing.  
  
The two slowly drag themselves inside, the drive long and taxing. Chris was out in the living room watching T.V. He had rings in his eyes, the injector gun prominently in his lap.   
  
"Did you sleep at all Chris?" Sheva asked, concern lacing her voice.  
  
"Nah, I kinda couldn't, what with the little girl back there running me ragged." The gruff man smiled, the days old five o'clock shadow coating his chin. "Seemed he decided to not pay another visit. And I was so ready too."  
  
"Be thankful." Jill murmured, too tired to get into a petty discussion with Chris. Sheva went to give Chris a warm hug; the man returns the gesture but after the conversation in the car, Jill could see the almost lukewarm way in which he returned it. She shook her head and began to walk towards her room when an excited Sia runs out of her bedroom.  
  
"Momma, Momma! You say hi to Daddy yet?"   
  
All three look towards the ecstatic child in alarm. All of the adult faces read the same questions:  _How? Where?_  The child grabs Jill's arm, dragging her towards the child's bedroom. "He's in my room, Momma! But Daddy isn't feeling well Momma…so I cheered him up with a picture!" The two BSAA are horrified; especially Chris as he despite the lack of sleep would have noticed the large B.O.W. shamble inside the house.   
  
Jill was so tired. Tired of running; tired of doing this. She will solve this one way or another. "Sheva, Chris…go to the far side of the house."  
  
"Jill! Let us-"  
  
The blond cuts off the other woman mid-sentence. "Don't. Both of you go. Now." Chris began to protest before feeling Sheva pull him back. Despite the hesitation from both, the BSAA walk towards the back rooms.   
  
She calmly starts to walk towards the room, picking up the bloodied knife left on the kitchen counter. The blade glinted, it coated heavily in dried purple. She glanced at the injector gun on the couch where Chris had sat but passed it by. A part of her didn't want such a crutch. She would see him eye to eye without drugging him. Her tired bedraggled form stepped into the child's room, full of papers and strewn toys. The beaming child was sitting on her small bed, along with her much larger company.  
  
Beside Sia sat nearly filling her child's bed was the Tyrant. Despite the tense situation, it looked rather comical with him surrounded by children's books, pastels, and crayons. Jill quickly collects her thoughts before addressing the dark-clad visitor.  
  
"If you plan on killing me, at least don't do it in front of our child." She says this, to gauge his reaction. Had he been indifferent she'd know; but the pleading look in his eye said otherwise. The monster lowly nodded his head before rising from the bed.  
  
 ***system override failure***    
  
Sia's small hands grip his buckled arm, trying to get him to stay. "Daddy don't go! You…you'll hurt Momma again; I won't forgive you if you hurt her!" He looks at her then to back to the female, already at the ready with a knife in her hand.   
  
 _-….the hell?! -_   ***directive failure 003***    
  
He lightly pats the child's head sliding out of the child's grip. He then starts to walk towards the female hovering in the doorway.   
  
He stops merely an inch from her, studying her tired face. A large gloved hand rose up lightly cupping her face strained from constant worry. Even with the slow movement, Jill could see the flinching in his face; the mental fight to restrain himself. His hand held her face, the two regarding each other for the briefest of moments.  
  
…with fast speed he grabs her hand with his other…and takes the knife from her loose one.   
  
 ***main system locked***   _-…that's impossible. How is he doing this…-_    
  
The Woman is growling at him, Her eyes brimming with rage.   
  
'The knife is in your hand. Do it!'  
  
He stands in front of Her, the ringing noise pitching; he's visibly shaking drool leaving him, the pure insane noise punishing him harshly.  _No._  
  
'NO!? Do. It. Do it Now.'   
  
 _No._  
  
'You cannot turn from Me!?'  
  
The Woman is screaming at him now – angry and irate. Her pale dead eyes are lit up in indignant rage. Stranger still was the gold text that filled them, circling where Her irises should be.   
  
 _-…damn it, unlock!...and that little girl…is **his**?-_  
  
He looks again at the female, the pure dark urge to just end her and therefore end his suffering rising. Those blue haunted eyes staring back in tired resignation. He moved his hand from her face – and lightly pushed her aside. One step, two, his hands drag against the wall the noise ratcheting to a fever pitch. It felt like daggers were rending his mind, the full fury of the punishment for his disobedience returning making what happened in the lab feel like a migraine in comparison.   
  
But with the little willpower he could salvage, he dragged himself towards the hall bathroom.   
  
 ***attempt to override failed***  
  
'How dare you turn from Me!? You cannot outrun your Fate!'   
  
He hugs his head, the metal of the knife soothing along with the cool of the bathroom tile floor.  
  
'Do you think she'll accept you…especially from what you've done?' the Woman screams at him, walking into the room with him. En route She backhands him before sitting on the lip of the tub. 'How hard is it to do your duty? Kill the whore!' He bangs his head against the wall holding himself in pure pain. In his agony he sees the female try to grab the door but he kicks it closed.  _No._  
  
'No?'  
  
 _No._  
  
She laughs at him openly, Her sword blocking the fading door. 'My judgment is absolute. Your wants and needs mean nothing, you coward!' Her voice once cold and indifferent, had in its wrath become distorted, warped like a worn tape recording.  
  
 ***burnout imminent***  
  
Her arms start to fill in various symbols, many resembling numbers, and letters; binary – all scattering along Her pale arms. The symbols swirled the blocks of text becoming interlaced with a set of text unlike the rest: νέμειν.   
  
'You are no more than what I tell you to be. Behave and do what I say!'  
  
He eyes the sword, it sitting alone as if it called for him.  
  
'Don't you dare touch that which is beneath you!'  
  
 ***00011100….00***  
  
The sword felt warm in his grip, warm and right as he walked to the Winged Woman, staring him down with contempt. A soft, mocking laugh came from Her, it growing harsher the closer he came to Her. Her face had started to become invaded with the text, the symbols as if a virus coating Her skin in darkness.  
  
'Do you dare to tempt Fate? Do you dare to function without Me?' She smiled, the gesture chilling, devoid of any kindness or humanity.  
  
The sword shifted in his grip, the blade coated in purple reflecting the face of his tormentor. It glinted then became coated in more as he cut through Her left wing. She bled everywhere, the purple spraying out from the tendons that held the wing together.   
  
'This will destroy what balance is left.'  
  
Her other wing was ripped off with his bare hands, the effort visibly taxing the Tyrant.  
  
'Don't you 11001 Fate?' Her mouth started to drip purple blood garbling even more of what She was saying. '000011000 futile; 0000escape11100011.' He had raised his arms again cutting into Her torso, Her limbs chopped into bloody pieces. '00001cannot do this110001 without1111yourself.'     
  
In frustration, he beheads the bleeding and broken Woman, Her head despite it still talking.  _He needs to; to make Her stop…It Hurts!?_  
  
Her head looks up towards him, and the next phrase She says stops him cold.  
  
'Your actions will lead you both to ruin if you end Me.'  
  
He stares Her down, regarding that.   
  
 ***00$1110 &&….fail^^11shu0ting00)0***  
  
 _Then I choose to live with that._  
  
Her eyes for the first time regard him in shock, as he rams the sword through Her skull. He strikes over and over again, each strike weakening him, the world bleeding back into focus.  
  
The sword is shrinking, the Woman fading from flesh into binary, then to a mirror, then nothing but himself. He's bowed over the bathroom mirror, the sink filled with purple ichor, the dagger still in his hand. It sat in his bloodstained hand, the same hand that was stabbing himself repeatedly deep into the scalp.   
  
The bathroom door is flung open. The female stands in the doorway, concern etched over her face framed in blond. He could barely move in his excruciating pain. But despite this - he drags himself from the vanity dripping a trail of purple. He walks slowly towards her; dropping to his knees in front of her whimpering and bleeding. He hands her a small broken feather, the purple covered item a memento of his victory.   
  
His gift to the female he did so much wrong to.  
  
Jill takes the small item, glinting gold in her palm; it was a pin sized chip coated in the gore that still leaked from the deep self-inflicted gash from the side of his stitched head. She reaches for him pulling him towards her. Jill holds him as he passes out, his head in her lap.   
  
...  
  
~Brother…?~  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
The Tyrant awakes finding himself leaning against the wall, the child playing doctor with him propped up on a pillow. He flickers slowly from unconsciousness, seeing her without the bleeding pain ringing in his head. Across from him, he sees the dark-skinned female start to move in fear and the male look at him in barely checked rage. He shifts slightly not wanting to topple the child currently in his lap. A makeshift bandage more than likely made by her sat on top of his head.   
  
A bucket of soaked through purple rags sit in a pile; his mate was busy mopping the bathroom. She wore a simple pair of sweats and a tee; he twitched a little the smells she was coated in at first reminding him of the sedative, but noted the pile of cleaning products sitting to the side of the rags. His eye followed her slow movements, not just because was she the only human that was not unnerved in some way by his company but because of the compromising angles her mopping put her in.   
  
He also could feel another pair of eyes on her –  _the male behind him would dare!_  The Tyrant felt his irritation rise but he holds back; the female is too interesting and the little one is sitting contently in his lap. As much as he wanted to stop her cleaning and mount the female then and there, he knew better. And at the moment the little one was pulling on his straps.   
  
The little girl leans onto his left arm. She whispered into his neck showing how observant she was for a child: "You shouldn't stare Daddy, that's rude." The girl then proceeds to check for his temperature with a thermometer in his mouth.   
  
Sheva despite trying to not gain the monster's ire could not repress the light chuckle from the admittedly cute reprimand.  _Merely hours and already that nasty head wound was already gone…no wonder he survived so much with that kind of healing._  It was intriguing: here was this B.O.W. who could at any time decide to kill all of them without much as a thought sitting here playing doctor with a six-year-old. The BSAA could now say she's seen everything.  
  
Overhearing the child's seemingly innocent comment, Jill faintly turns towards him, a slight flush coating her features. They both had at that moment similar thoughts – but as quick as the glance was, she turned back to continue mopping.  
  
Sheva could only faintly pick up on the nonverbal between then; no animosity, no anger, just quiet glances. Odd. From what they went through the last few days; from what she remembered reading about her ordeal concerning him almost 17 years ago she should out of all of them harbor deep animosity. But it seemed whatever happened between them to even produce Sia must have crossed that unlikely of breachable gulfs.   
  
It was just odd…the dynamic between all three of them really. She was aware he could not talk but the three of them just sat doing things in silence. Was it because the three listened more than spoke or just had nothing to say that they didn't already know? A pang of envy rose within her – how was it that a mute nonhuman was able to succinctly show concern and even interest while the gruff man to her side could manage to do neither?  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
The child had fallen asleep in his arms, her dark chocolate hair forming a small curtain along his left arm. He softly lifted her up, the girl curling into a small ball, content in his warmth. He saw out of the corner of his eye that the dark female and that male were on the other couch resting. He could sense that the male was awake but he was of no concern to him. The girl in his arms yawned, clinging to his buckles tightly. He walked into the small room, the walls painted a pale green the room strewn with loose papers covered in child like drawings and books.   
  
One such book sat on the child's bed, the cover worn with constant use. He moved it over the cover full of cartoonish monsters with a child wearing a monster costume and crown on the front. As he placed the sleeping child under the covers a glint from the book caught his eye. He opened the book and saw the torn item inside it.  
  
 _Did…did the female keep this? From way back then?_  
  
He thought back to how she would have acquired such an item and hung his head low. He learned that day, that when it came to her taking never was as pleasant as receiving. He learned something he never had to trouble himself with – permission. No one was worth listening to but her; having her permission made everything better. Thinking about the female…made him long to see her, even though he still felt weak after cutting that thing out of his skull. It faintly ached, but being able to touch her of his own free will made the pain a small sacrifice.  
  
He closed the book, laying it next to his child. Her small fingers curled around it as she slept soundly in her bed. The Tyrant left the room, walking towards the female's bedroom. He could feel that male's eyes on him again…giving him the hidden jealous glares that only a rival suitor would give. But her eyes only were for him and him alone. In knowing this that male can glare all he wants.  
  
 _The Tyrant didn't give a damn._  
  
He opened her door, and then softly closed it behind him. She laid sprawled on her large bed her slightly shorter blond hair hanging freely without any hair ties. He merely stood there in the doorway for a good long moment, the long oversized tee that she wore hugging to her sleeping form. Despite the years she looked in his eyes as stunning as the first time he laid eyes on her. Age means nothing; just holding her, knowing that she looked upon him the same…it was more than her being brave now. He always found it odd even angering that she refused to fear him. But when he let go, when he saved her from falling in that hole – that was the first and only time he smelt fear from her. Her fear hung heavy in the air then; her fear of losing him all too real.  
  
 _He never wanted to smell that from her again._  
  
She was on her side clutching a body length pillow. Faint bruises covered her body still from his attacks on her… _only for this female could he afford himself remorse. Only for her and his child would he stay his hand._  The faint glint of a small gold piece of metal shone from a small end table. The B.O.W. slipped to her side lying next to her. It was almost identical to the time in the chapel but years have changed the circumstances. He just lay like this, not frustrated, not needing or demanding anything, just enjoying her close like this. He leaned into her hair, his left hand softly toying with the loose strands. She smelt like he remembered, her soft breathing the only sound cutting through the air. Her hair felt so soft on his face, and despite himself, he couldn't repress the soft sigh that came from himself. This lone female makes him feel so many things, so many emotions both good and bad. But she is his and he is hers. It was as simple as that.   
  
He purred in her scalp, expecting to lull himself to sleep like this. That is until she turned around. Her bright blue eyes looked towards him, still sleepy but attentive. He could see the faint lines in her face and brought his hand light against her face. He let his finger trace each one new and old, each line if anything adding to a mature beauty. Each line through age, or battle, each mark he touched wanting to re-memorize each one, wanting to commit her true face, not pictures to memory.  
  
She leaned into his palm, the larger hand easily covering her face. She could feel the small movement underneath the skin of that palm but cupped it close. Her eyes silted closed the woman, not in the slightest unnerved by his presence. Soft hands cupped his face. She then leaned upwards kissing him on the teeth, flicking her tongue lightly across them, causing him to audibly gasp. She took this moment to slip a finger between his parted teeth teasing his tongue with her thumb. The finger circled softly, careful to avoid his sharp teeth.   
  
Despite his resolve to not initiate anything, his willpower broke as she removed the thumb letting it return back to his face, her tongue filling his mouth in its place. They sat like this, mouths parted hands cupping each other's faces. Her eyes took in the look of him studying his face in full. It was a look of pure surrender; a response only she was capable of bringing forth from otherwise a living breathing killer, a being whose only purpose was to kill, subdued by merely a touch. His eye was lidded closed, a sliver of white showing. His expression was as lost as that night - that night full of empty promises and assurances:  
  
 _'Just for tonight', no longer applied anymore._  
  
The female's face had colored a faint shade of red, the contact he understood to be pleasing to her. One hand left his face, only to slide along his side. Her fingers drifted along each strap, pulling along each on its route down as if she was making sure each wasn't just her imagination but that he was here and as real as her hands that pulled on each one. The hand strayed lower till it landed on the edge of where his bottom skirt ended. Then almost teasingly slow she dragged the tip of a fingernail upwards along his inner thigh under the billowing skirt. Despite himself he openly moaned into her mouth, the contact causing him to arch slightly. Just a touch and already he felt himself growing heated.   
  
Her hand slid just at the edge but not shifting to where he really wanted it to be. He wanted her to move just a bit more, but she merely squeezed his thigh. A softer higher pitched whine came from him…she wasn't going to move any further up. She merely deepened her assault in his mouth teasingly keeping her hand in place. A random idea occurred to him; he let his left hand slide from her face, letting his knuckles stroke along her bare thigh. At this, the female gasped not expecting his touch there.   
  
But he went one step further and proceeded to cup between her legs. He could feel the thin fabric that tightly clung here, and the feeling of wetness that lined it. He wasn't necessarily sure what it meant but he knew between that and the heady smell filling the room that it was a good thing. He thought back to that day when she had dragged his hand here, mimicking what he remembered. Pressing against the wetness with merely a finger caused her to outright moan into his mouth and her teasing hand to finally move. That soft hand was cupping him, stroking him causing him to arch into her hand, his pants becoming excruciatingly tight.   
  
The hand cupping his face was now digging nails slightly into his scalp. He started to softly run his finger up and down the fabric, her thighs closing around and rocking against his hand. Their tongues were doing an increasingly heated dance against each other, both panting against the other. She shifts moving her hand from under his skirt. A small noise from the Tyrant has her smile against his exposed teeth. She parts from his mouth, and suddenly removes the hand from between her legs; taking both this and his other hand on her face into hers. She had him roll onto his back, pinning them over his head.   
  
She straddled him, pushing up the bottom skirt and sitting directly on top of him. Then she did something that both frustrated and excited him – she began to rock her hips against him the clothed movement causing him to thrust desperately upwards. She bodily pinned him down, the swell of her clothed breasts pressing onto him jostling the top strap on his coat. She leaned back onto his face her lips ghosting against his teeth.   
  
He wanted to touch, to grab what he until now could only see in memories all these years …but her soft hands kept his hands at bay, the female's fingers softly stroking his wrists. His guttural responses were muffled by her mouth, similar sounds coming from her in like kind. This restraint...it brought back that pained memory but unlike the lies that thing in his mind gave, this was reality and it felt too good, too real to be his imagination.  
  
And unlike in his mind, he could turn her over. She had barely realized that he had flipped them over in his excitement the teasing too much. But she wasn't mad; she merely chuckled into his mouth… she only expected him to have but so much patience. He lay on top of her, him shifting his weight as to not crush her. Her blond hair fanned out messily beneath her, some of the stray strands catching loosely on a few stray buckles. He pressed against her, letting her know how long he had been without her – and how ready he was to fix that.   
  
He felt her push up against him forcing him to sit up, and reach up to began toying with his stays. The monster took her hands, pushing them down and under his top wanting to feel her on his skin. He unhooked the top himself knowing he was faster at it, knowing he didn't want to wait any longer. Her soft hands had slid to his belt, unsnapping his skirt and pants. There was no finesse this time, the discarding of clothing was hurried and tossed at random. She felt large hands pull off her oversized tee; the sharp sound of fabric ripping was heard as the Tyrant's patience had run out when it came to her underwear.  
  
As sudden as the shedding of clothing, she felt herself pinned down both fully nude in front of the other's gaze for the first time. He lay between her legs, his head beside and to her left. She felt him lick the side of her face slowly trailing from her chin to her temple then lazily back down her nape. At one point in time, this would have disgusted her.  _How things so dearly change._  A deep, possessive growl came from him, the only warning he was going to give. She merely stroked his backside with a stray leg, giving him clear invitation.  
  
She stifled the throaty moan coming unbidden as he entered her, slowly but still intense for her much smaller frame. She held him with her legs wrapped around his thighs, not wanting him to move yet. She could feel him straining to obey, straining to not start into her. She squeezed her legs around him, causing a deep pained cry to come from him. The woman recalled how she could read the minute expressions on his lipless face; well she could add sound to that list as well.  
  
Sounds of pain, sounds of sorrow, anger, happiness, excitement – she knew them all. Speaking was never necessary; speaking only caused more lies than truth anyway. Just a gaze and a grunt was the only language they understood without pretense or shame. But right now she was teaching him another: the language of union. Her thighs would tighten he would go slower; they would loosen and he would go faster; her nails would dig deep in his back and he would go deeper - nonverbal cues that only closeness could produce. Her eyes widened then lidded as he took her and rode her hard.   
  
The sounds of him panting were met with her soft moans both finding it hard to hold back this much-needed release. She pulled his head down, her hands stroking his stitched scalp the sound of her losing herself muffed in his mouth. He only pushed her head down into the mattress pulling away from her face and burying his head in the sheets, his body trembling from the intensity of his release matching her own.   
  
For a good couple of moments, they just laid like this, tired but not wanting to move. Every time they moved somehow the moments like this would come to a crashing end. That fear that this was a lie or a cruel trick kept the Tyrant and human entangled like this – wading in the afterglow. He flipped onto his back pulling her on top of him his large arms encircling them. Her head leaned into his neck, settling against his solid warmth. Jill haphazardly pulled the sheets around them, both of them giving the other a good long look not trusting the world to be kind once they awoke.  
  
….  
  
 _Middle brother – is she worth it? Is she all that you need? What about us, aren't we worth anything?_    
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
Chris watched him walk Sia to her bed cradling her. Holding her like he used to. He found it hard to repress the rage over it. He did those things and this beast just ups and takes over? But what angered him more was seeing him enter Jill's room. Chris was highly tempted to run in there expecting him to attack her despite the self-inflicted chip removal. But despite his assumptions, there was no screaming, no fighting. Just silence. Then that silence shifting to softer noises, noises that went from soft murmurs to tones darker and heated, the movement inside the room muffled but still blatant.   
  
 _How **dare**  he? Why would Jill  **do**  such a thing?   
  
I was always here for you Jill.   
  
 **Why?**_  
  
The fact that the B.O.W. didn't come out told him everything he needed to know. That monster has some hold over her. Some unhealthy hold…  
  
He will save her whether she liked it or not.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
Jill had woken up late, the feeling of the bed having extra weight on it alien until she noted the occupant. It was odd, monster or not, he lay sprawled out like anyone trying to sleep.  _At least he didn't take up the whole bed._  She got up, washing up and clothing herself for the day in a simple top and sweats.  
  
She came out to see the two BSAA sitting and watching TV both perched on the love seat. Sia had just finished a bowl of cereal and had just placed the bowl in the sink. While Sheva nodded her way, she caught the faint glare from Chris. He was becoming more blatant about his irritation with the B.O.W. now holed up in the former BSAA's home. Speaking of, the Tyrant had like a ninja gotten up and clothed himself; he perched himself on the empty large sofa staring intently at Jill.   
  
Sia had jumped in the B.O.W.'s lap, giving him a warm hug. The look of barely concealed rage crossed the gruff man's features. The B.O.W. merely ignored him, stroking the child's hair.  
  
"So, how's everyone?" Jill hoped to break the tension, largely caused by Chris. The man ever since the Tyrant had gotten himself under control had been visibly irate; almost trying to provoke the Tyrant with various inflammatory statements. She understood his animosity to a degree, but most of it is largely due to things outside the B.O.W.'s control. But a part of it…she just couldn't shake the feeling that it was more to it then past violence.  
  
"Great, Momma!" The girl hopped up out of the monster's lap and ran to Jill to have the blonde encase her in a big bear hug.  
  
"Silly girly girl time for a bear hug! Rawr!"  
  
The girl squealed in her arms. Sheva stretched out, popping the kinks out of her arms. "Well, I'm fine. Save for that cot beating me in my sleep." Both women laughed. "Cot 1, Sheva 0," Jill chucked. The monster merely sat the joke not of interest. Chris despite the light banter looked ready to explode.  
  
"Well, I know who  _definitely_  had a good time last night." He mumbled.  
  
"Hrm?" the other BSAA piqued.  
  
Jill momentarily flushed but quickly composed herself, shooting back at him, "That's none of your concern Chris, and in very bad taste."  
  
"Really." The man sarcastically replied back.  
  
"Yes. I don't know what mood you're in but can you get over it – I mean I know this is an odd arrangement but could you at least try-"  
  
"Did he force you, Jill?" The question was asked calmly, but the hint of malice and accusation hung within each syllable.   
  
The whole room went silent. With that one statement, Chris had put into question the big elephant in the room; the very elephant that now let out a faint irritated growl towards him. Jill held up her hand non verbally telling him to stay. "Sia honey, can you go to your room for a moment?" Jill asked the oblivious child, her voice deathly calm.  
  
"What's wrong Momma, did I do something wrong?"  
  
"No dear…just adults needing to talk. I promise I'll make it up to you." She hugs the girl; Sia obediently runs to her room. As the sound of a door closed, Jill looked at Chris with such an icy stare that he visibly flinched.  
  
Sheva started to rise up, "Do I need to leave too, Jill-"  
  
Jill shook her head motioning for her to sit back down. Her eyes did not leave Chris' face.   
  
"He did no such thing," Jill whispered.  
  
Chris sat, staring at the woman, the bruises from the recent events fading; but the fact that despite them would still defend that monster.  _That **thing**  sitting over there smugly with everything just…just handed to him!_ This simple admission had him reeling.  
  
" _Why, Jill? Why?_ "  
  
" 'Why'. That word could start a line of answers you may not want to hear Chris. But since you asked, since you  _asked_  after years of my silence; fine. I'll tell you why.  
  
 _Because he was there._ "  
  
Chris had to choke back the deep feelings of anger that welled up. This woman, after all, they've been through, all they've suffered together would say this? "I was there too, Jill.  _I was there for you, Jill!? I searched - hunted for you, Jill! **How could you say I wasn't!**_ "  
  
The Tyrant shifted slightly on the couch, visibly irate but staying put.   
  
"Easily. Because you weren't there when I  _needed you_. You were there when it was convenient for you to be heroic and save the day. But you weren't-"  
  
" **Shut the hell up Jill!** " the man screamed. "I was always there! Always by your side when you were hurt, when you were alone! I was always there to hold you, to love you! How  **dare**  you say otherwise?" The man's knuckles were white his face reading of barely checked rage. Sheva's face had stayed in a mask of indifference, but Jill deep down knew hearing that hurt her.  
  
The woman looked at him now, a bitter smile crossing her pale features. She took a sobering breath and began to speak of things she longed to have stayed buried.   
  
"You say you were there, correct? Well then. Where were you at the Raccoon P.D.?"  
  
At this Chris visibly tensed. "That's not the same Jill-"  
  
"No. You wanted proof. I'm giving it to you," the woman said the statement icily calm. "Where were you at the Raccoon P.D.? We were dating then remember?" The man nodded his head. "We would tell each other so many things, our hopes, dreams, our problems. We promised to be there for each other, didn't we?"  
  
"Yes…"  
  
"Again, where were you, Chris?"  
  
"I- I found it hard to believe Jill. You – you have to understand!"  
  
"Hard to believe? Hard to believe what, Chris? That I wasn't as blessed as you; as your wonderful –  **our**  wonderful  _Captain_?"  
  
"He was our leader Jill! He may have been a haughty traitorous asshole but he's too anal, too 'by the book' despite his bullshit to do that! Leaders are supposed to be good people, people that we all look up too! A leader-"  
  
"That couldn't keep his hands to himself."  
  
"Jill…I…"  
  
"That would touch me, grope me, and tell me things when I only wanted to do everything for the department. He was a man like any other off the street when it came to me. He took advantage of my need to do everything right and perverted everything. But funny, I confided in you, needed you to make that ugly feeling go away…to make me feel clean again…but you did neither."  
  
Chris was visibly trembling, grief crossing his hardened face. "I just, I just couldn't believe he would do such a thing…I was young and stupid Jill!"  
  
Her voice still held that calm detached tone, the truth anything but. "You called me a liar Chris. You basically told me my feelings were wrong…"  
  
"Please, Jill…!"  
  
"You without saying it called me a whore, Chris. Do you  **not**  understand how devastating that was? How fucking destructive that was!" Her voice rose in her rage.  
  
"…I'm…sorry…I was stupid, I should have defended you…I ...was scared that everything I knew was a lie."  
  
Again she had returned to that deadpan unnerving tone. "But it was. He tried you know. Tried to get me to sleep with him. He even had used a knife on me; he had such a love for them." Jill's eyes went distant. "Of course I fought him. Of course, I ran home, screaming in my head wondering why my life was such a nightmare. This before the zombies, the betrayal, the city even turning its back." She started to laugh softly at this. "The world turned from me. But funny after all that, you run away from it all chasing shadows in Antarctica."  
  
"My sis was in trouble!"  
  
"Better than dealing with me, huh? Then I guess you decided to join the BSAA, hoping maybe we could be best friends again. We could be zombie hunters with ranks and files just like old times. We could pretend that things like that never happened. We could start over and be together, pretending it all away.  
  
But deep down, I still could not forgive you. Deep down the feelings were there but I pushed them down to keep the peace. But…I could never look at you the same way again."  
  
"But that was years ago Jill…years!"  
  
"That came back in full force when our dear perfect Captain decided to 'lecture' us in Spencer's Estate. Our fearless,  _innocent_ leader who took it upon himself to 'redeem' me from the brink of death."   
  
She started to visibly shake the tears threatening to fall. Then slowly she started to disrobe her top.   
  
"What…Jill…stop it…?"  
  
An audible gasp came from the silent woman on the love seat. Jill was topless, her breasts covered by her arms. Numerous places along her skin were covered by faint, yet deep, vicious scars – scars that were paper thin resembling cut marks. Knife marks. Each one was in not so noticeable places as if the person who left them there wanted to be sure outsiders would not notice them. "Seemed our  _leader_  didn't forget the past either. And unlike in the station, he didn't hold back this time," She softly whispered.  
  
Chris fell to the floor, agony reading across his face. When he and Jill reunited, when they would sleep together, she would be adamant about having the lights off, she would turn her head away from him, and the glimpses of fear he would catch in her eyes…  
  
The proof of his mistake…it sat glaring at him in the numerous marks that popped off her permanently pale skin.  
  
She slid her shirt back on, her point made. A soft whisper came from her, barely audible. "I see his hateful eyes in every man I see Chris. Every last one. I feel him when a man touches me; I taste him when a man kisses me. I hear him… except when I'm near  _him_." She looked towards the Tyrant, sitting in silence. The only reaction at all was the opening and closing of his fist and the cold glare he gave the human male.  
  
"He makes  _that man_  go away. Isn't the truth so much fun…so much damn fun proving my decisions and feelings to you years fucking late, Chris!" the woman screamed her face turned up in a snarl, her body visibly shaking in opening up to such pain.  
  
"….I didn't kn-"  
  
She cut him off in her irritation, her voice dipping to one borderline mocking and condescending…her deeply hidden feelings of despair threatening to spill out. "Well, now you do. Now you know. You can't fix me. But now I have a question for  _you_. Did you stay with me as a friend helping out, or as a wolf hoping to pounce?"   
  
"Jill! I…it's not like that!"  
  
"Then, what is  _it_  like? You liked playing pretend family with us two, didn't you?!" Her voice returned to of deep, long hidden anger the pitch bordering that of a shriek.   
  
"Jill, stop!"  
  
"Did you pretend that Sia was yours, Chris? Did you hope for these past years I'd decide out of desperation to run back? Is your heart in it when you are with Sheva?"   
  
"SHUT UP, JILL!" Chris roared, not liking that she was cornering him.  
  
"I…regret telling you to go to her. She deserves better," She softly whispered.  
  
Chris rose up now him rage flooding his judgment. He began to loom at Jill, but the taller witness rose up blocking her from him. Undeterred, Jill spoke.  
  
"As I asked years ago when you wanted to get rid of him –  _who's the monster now, Chris_?"  
  
The man slunk back, tears threatening to fall down his battle-worn face. "I'm so sorry…Jilly…please…"  
  
"Get out." She whispered. Out of the corner of the man's eye, a pair of blue eyes, pale with emotion looked towards him.   
  
"Sia…honey..." Chris began; the child darted back off to her room, the door slamming closed.  
  
"Don't talk to her." Jill snapped. "In fact, you should want to talk to Sheva. I'm sure she feels great knowing where your heart truly lies." The blond looked up at the other woman in sadness, not wishing to lay such things out like this. "I'm sorry…" was all that came from her pale lips. The other woman just nodded at her sadly, the mask she wore on her face crumbling as the reality of Chris' feelings was exposed to all.  
  
Sheva got up, walking out the room to comfort the little girl audibly sobbing in her bedroom. Chris reached towards the retreating woman, but Sheva merely brushed his hand away in disgust. He turned to Jill hoping, begging for a sliver of forgiveness. She stared at him, then repeated in a hiss, "Get. The. Fuck. Out!" He backed up, grabbing the van's keys and began to walk out; but not before glaring with open hatred at the monster standing beside her.  
  
As the front door opened and closed with a slam, Jill leaned onto the Tyrant, the sounds of her despair, anger, and rage muffled into his leather suit.  
  
Chris slumps onto the side of the worn van. Softly one, then two wet trails coat his gruff face. He falls to the ground mentally breaking, knowing that for all his wishing, all of his wanting, he had been hoping for an unattainable dream.


	6. SofD - 5 Mars

**Mars**    
  
 _'…did you know the sun was gonna die?'  
  
'What? I never heard that... Oh, come on. That can't happen. I mean you're the king, and look at me, I'm big! How can guys like us worry about a tiny little thing like the sun, hmm?'_  
  
  
Chris was driving around aimlessly watching the world shade from light to dark the moon greeting his eyes. He needed to clear his head…needed to process it all. Four days left of vacation on a trip that quickly became anything but. He now had literally lost everything that mattered to him: the woman he cared about, the child that he couldn't see as anything but his, and the woman that he still in honesty loved – that he always loved.  
  
He passes by the park, still filled with yellow tape the scene under investigation. The news was filled over the past few days with reporters and investigators looking for leads. The corpse he remembered finding in clear disarray was found out to be a known sex offender; little to no leads have turned up or at least no eyes towards him or the others. The priors on the dead man's record caused little to no leads to willingly turn up, slowing investigation.  
  
Chris peered down at his phone resting on the passenger's seat …he should report this. It's every BSAA's job to contain and report every biological threat sighted. What keeps him from doing his job?  
  
What kept him from stopping what happened with their former team captain?  
  
Disbelief? No. He was afraid, afraid of the corruption that seemed to slowly unravel in front of his eyes day by day. Afraid that despite the arguing and butting of heads between him and the once human man, that the acceptance of such a thing would destroy him.  _How selfish of me._  His simple wish to have it all: a job he loved, a girl he loved, and a friendly town he called home was all slowly crumbling around him. Taking her side then would've opened up a scandal tying everyone up in red tape and harsh scrutiny. Had he known how much red tape and closing of doors the remaining S.T.A.R.S. were to experience after that mansion horror –  
  
 _Had he only listened to her!_  
  
He pulled over the van, leaning his head onto the steering wheel. Running his hands through his ruffled hair he peered at the cell sitting on the worn leather seat.  
  
He turned the van around.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
"It seems I have an unruly child. Of all of my children, he held the greatest of promise and yet decided to throw a tantrum. No child is too old for punishment." Simon holds up a gold chip, the same one that houses the directives – the lines of code representing his absolute will housed inside a sliver of metal, wiring, and plastic. "Or too young for indoctrination…"  
  
 _~Brother…why are we sleeping? No time to sleep…~  
  
~Don't touch!~  
  
~Why brother isn't awake?~  
  
~Why do ' **you** ' care? We were fine without! Away from us!~_  
  
He paces in the third hidden floor of the lab complex, thinking about the new information gathered from the rogue Tyrant…stopping in from of a large metal chair. The chair housed a subject that dwarfed it in size, the silent inhabitant not responding. "But you wouldn't disobey me, my son, would you?"  
  
 _~Who is ' **you** '? We don't understand? We only see brother sleeping, but not moving-~  
  
~We said away!  **You**  don't care…Father didn't touch  **you** , therefore,  **you**  are not important…get  **your**  filthy hands off!~  
  
~We…don't understand.~  
  
~ **You**  never will…We don't need  **you**. Wish it were  **you** …we are alone now…~_  
  
The large creature shook his head obediently, seemly hanging onto each word but whose thoughts were scattered with the sounds of the past. Simon leans and whispers, "I think it is high time for you to play Abel, to punish that faulty Cain you have as a brother, don't you think?"  
  
 _~No…we aren't alone…we was just sleeping…don't say that brother-  
  
What happened to us? All that's left is we and…him…always about him…ALWAYS!!~_  
  
The occupant's eyes opened sharply, the pupliess eyes rolling up to reveal a faint red-rimmed circle where the iris would be. The gaze of blank submission flickered to dark rage momentarily before settling back to the same blank expression – a face that was it not for the presence of both eyes a spitting image of what deeply angered said, occupant.  
  
"It is only fitting you help your Father put such an impudent child in his place is it not, Zeus?"  
  
 _Yes, Father. We won't disappoint. Our brother has not suffered. Not remotely enough. We plan to fix this imbalance._    
  
…  
  
We woke up in such pain…our brothers are scattered like the wind. What happened to us? Only we are left; we and middle brother. Middle brother isn't here. Middle brother is again doing things above us. He is wrongly made. So wrong. We are better, without such weakness.  
  
Brother thinks he's better. Must tell him otherwise. Brother deserves it. What is this? Brother …and a human? Disgusting. Father wishes us to teach him a lesson. Father is correct in this – but we wish to not teach, we wish to delete. Weakness amongst us is wrong. Choosing this female as his attachment is weakness. We must destroy this mistake. Now.  
  
 _ **You**  do not deserve such extras. We should kill that litter  **you've**  bred with such an inferior bitch, but Father wants her. This we accept as His judgment. But, we can't let  **you**  and that filthy weak human to live.   
  
No, we can't have that despite what Father wants._  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
After that terse conversation, everyone needed time to cool off. But it had been a few hours now; and despite the repeated calls, Chris hasn't picked up his phone. Sheva didn't know what to feel, or how to express it. As she held the distraught child in her arms, the woman's mind rolled along in indecision. The child had slowly calmed down the verbal argument affecting her deeply. Then again finding out that the man you saw as your uncle outwardly hating your father …it must be overwhelming for a child to understand.  
  
But as she held on, Sheva wanted to cry, wanted to admit to herself that she was right…but knowing that fact all along didn't lessen the hurt. It hurt for so long and she ignored it – for what? She remembered it like it was yesterday; the two talking over a few drinks. A friendly outing that exploded like a cliché movie moment leading to something more. It all happened so fast. Feelings quickly became involved, feelings then fear. Then guilt came along; guilt that was sort of massaged away when she was told of Jill's reaction.   
  
She wondered about that for a long time. How could a person just up and not care about someone so drastically? But now knowing her reasoning, it only opened up more questions that would lead to answers she feared she wasn't ready for. But despite his and Jill's past problems she herself felt…felt used. Her heart wanted to believe he did in fact care in some way, but her mind spun with the pain of accepting, of being 'second best'.   
  
And it hurt.   
  
It hurt; but despite it, she wanted closure, at least something to explain the 8 years she spent. Something to justify the countless nights, conversations, kisses, the guilt years afterward, the betrayal of everything. She had placed Sia onto her bed, the sullen child falling into a fitful nap. Sheva walked outside looking for Jill.   
  
She felt the quiet eye of the Tyrant follow her movements still sitting calmly on the large sofa. As much as it was unnerving, she noted he was less blatant about it with her.  _Almost like she was an afterthought._  In a way she was glad for that; the looks he gave Chris in comparison were borderline murderous. The reactions towards the man made sense now.  
  
 _Funny that even he saw what was going on. How blind was I?_    
  
She panned the room, her eyes landing on the back porch. Jill was sitting in a small chair, drinking a glass of tea. She was cupping it, staring down into its contents with red, puffy eyes. Sheva's hand softly lay on the woman's shoulder.   
  
Blue eyes looked into dark brown, then away. "I'm sorry," came from a voice small yet hoarse from yelling.  
  
"Why? You did nothing wrong. If anything I guess Fate bit me back in the ass, huh?" The BSAA nervously smiled, wishing that at least of the two, Jill wouldn't be like this.  _So much pain and no one knew. So much pain that if only he bothered…_  
  
"I…knew but said nothing. I kinda hoped that deep down, you two would've been happy. I hoped that if he had you, he'd move on and leave me be. I…meant it when I told him to stay with you."   
  
"Once he decided to stay with me, it no longer became your problem, Jill. To sit and try to protect me of all people…you didn't have to. I wronged you. To decide to soften the blow after all that is admirable but not necessary."   
  
"But despite it all, you've been a good friend. Despite it all, you stuck by me without an ulterior motive or tried to cut me down…I think that in itself redeems you. And…despite his part, I wanted to believe he wanted to help deep down." The blond looked upwards, the smile crossing her face genuine.   
  
"He hasn't answered his phone in a while. As much as I want to walk away, I need to talk to him. I need to at least have him explain himself. That and he has the van and it was signed out under my name." Both women laugh at the aside, then gripping each other in a deep hug.   
  
"Wanna ride shotgun?" Jill offered. "I'll drive around and we can go Chris hunting. I figure a beat up van can't be but so hard to find around here." As much as she didn't want to see him, Jill felt responsible for the current distraught look that filled her friend's face.  
  
"Yeah. Better than moping here." The two get up, hoping that the search would help them deal with their raw pain.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
Jill and Sheva walked from the porch; the cocoa skinned woman walking towards the front door. Jill looked towards the quiet monster, staring at her passively from his perch. She lightly grinned towards him sensing the calmness from him. She would normally not leave Sia alone for any reason but with the Tyrant here, Jill at least felt her safe for the time being. He behaved around her, the child at least seeming to cause a bit of restraint from him.  
  
She walked into the child's room, the girl having risen up from her short nap, currently sprawled onto the floor doing her favorite activity of drawing. The girl found it fun to bring the images in her head to life, pictures of her daily life, pictures of her dreams, of people, they all showing alongside the common color of red. Red sky, red hands, red backgrounds. The picture of a man hanging from a branch. Jill had many a teacher's conference of the girl's pictures over the years, each picture looking to be more and more reflective of violence than the 'normal' topic of children's pictures: of suns, cars, flowers, and rainbows.  
  
It didn't help that the girl was abnormally quiet, only talking with herself and her 'family': the two current BSAA. In fact, save for when Jill was around, teachers thought that the child was unable to be sociable and had no qualms telling Jill this. They said that when she did try and socialize she would only glare at the other children, her expression vacant, cold, and almost predatory. As if she in her little mind was planning something. Jill had looked at the teacher like she was mad, these traits never coming up in her daily interactions with the child. Save for a temper or so the child never came across as anything more – a small child.  
  
She let her indulge in her creativity, finding the extra activity to distract her from any overtly aggressive mannerisms. Even though she seemed distant from her classmates, Jill chalked it up to her just liking to be alone. She could understand that a bit. Her enjoyment of drawing she found cute – as to the overuse of red she just figured the girl had a love of the color.   _Her little girl did not have problems._  She repeated this in her mind, refusing that anything was out of the ordinary for the child. She was capable of being loving, kind, respectful, things that a child should possess. Despite what others say she was a good kid.   
  
She leaned down ruffling the girl's brown hair.  
  
"Hey, girly. Me and Auntie are going out driving. Be good while we're gone."  
  
"Kay." Sia wraps her short arms around Jill, seeing the darker figure shift in the next room.  
  
"He'll watch you so be on your best behavior. Monsters only get sent to bed."  
  
"So if Daddy acts bad will he get sent to bed too?" Jill laughed into the girl's hair, hiding her embarrassed smile from view.  
  
"Yes, little girl. We'll be back in awhile."  
  
The child slid back to the floor already scribbling out some choice lines on the blank sketch pad.  
  
Sia was her little girl, and she would accept her.  _No matter what._  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
The man looked towards the injector gun in the back seat of the van. It and the many canisters that sat amongst it filled the bottom of the vehicle's trunk along with a few concealed weapons. Normally civilians and most ranks of the military were not allowed such contents or such an amount, but as a high ranking member of the BSAA, this limitation was waved. He had placed the gear in the rented van in case of emergency, but unbeknownst to Sheva was the sheer amounts he hid in the hidden compartment underneath where the spare tire sat. That 'just in case' part of his mind considered the possible encounter of any high-level threats along this trip in light of recent events.  
  
Chris sat in the van a few blocks away but in view of the residence. He had waited till the women had left; the many phone calls from Sheva led him to believe that she would eventually leave to look for him. Seeing Jill go along with meant that the house would be empty. Empty save for that monster which in all things considered would classify as a high threat. That thing that mowed down many of his comrades and is just given a free pass by the very woman that should despise him! Chris took a deep sobering breath letting his anger subside. He had to be calm. Jill said many times that he fed off of fear. Lessening it would make things easier.   
  
He dug up various larger and smaller sized syringe vials. Invidia was still the standard in sedatives, but another key bit Jill had mentioned was how a certain amount could produce comatose like effects when overloaded. The men that were involved in the Arizona incident years back had doubled up on their shots so that each needle bombarded his system extra fast knocking him into a deep comatose state. The only reason he got up at all was that they did not keep up with the injections. She said that they unloaded him with almost 6 tips. Each about 6 ccs apiece. 36 ccs – that amount would tank a Talos class indefinitely.   
  
If it took that much to put him down, would double that amount put him under permanently? Chris had measured each vial pouring the contents into one larger sized injector. The size was hard to find and was rarely used, only to take out extremely dangerous subjects to conserve ammunition and lessen casualties. Well, that was the stated goal; these size tubes were never used in any field tests. The use of so much of the liquid was seen as a danger to humans as the stuff was toxic to them if it touched the skin – but also seen as a wasteful maneuver as most B.O.W.s did not need such a sheer amount to put down. Most of the time the sedative was only used to detain high profile prisoners; B.O.W.s normally were killed on the spot with good old fashioned bullets.   
  
This was before that beast was found. A mere dart would only last a minute if that with him, the creature's insane biology burning through the effects with ease. The surviving teams that Josh returned with had gone through a good case of needles before making it from the operating table to the White Room but not before he took out another operative in irate rage. Chris had jabbed a good 6 ccs into his shoulder during their past tussle, but the thing was up and running in barely the time it took him to kick him out of the elevator!   
  
But when the current housemate inside Jill's home resided inside the BSAA bunker, the tubes were prepared to be tested on him in light of his violent disposition in the BSAA's initial plan to have him terminated. How he wished he went through with it…but his feelings for Jill held him back.   
  
He won't make the same mistake twice.   
  
The hand-sized syringe gun was placed in the deep fatigue pockets of the grizzled man, the smell covered up by an open pack of cigarettes.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
 _~Brother…brother…why isn't waking?~ Large hands shake the unmoving figure sprawled on the cold room's floor.  
  
A deep growl came, the sounds to an outsider unintelligible but to the ones present. The growl was deep, venomous. ~Don't touch! This is  **your**  fault! We were fine, fine until they punished us, but not  **you**!? Did nothing to  **you**!!~ Another pushed the other conscious figure to the side, the look of anger filling their features.  
  
~' **You** '? What is ' **you** '? We are-~  
  
~No!  **You**  are not one of us.  **You**  were chosen to be against us! We don't need  **you**!~  
  
The confused figure could only point towards themselves, murmuring, ~' **You** '?~  
  
…  
  
We sit apart now…it hurts. What did we do wrong? We don't understand…we do everything as we?   
  
Humans tell us this. We are like each other, but now…that isn't true anymore. Brothers are no longer the same. We confused…  
  
We aren't supposed to run…Big brother ran and never came back. We come back-!  
  
…  
  
Alone now…'you' alone now? 'You'…'I'…we don't understand. But we are just one now…so…'I alone'?  
  
Brothers, …why am an 'I'? The lone figure curls up into a ball, the mental working of such a concept too much in his grief.  
  
…  
  
…  
  
I …will prove them wrong…  
  
…_  
  
The Tyrant sat on the smaller couch, his eye lidded closed mentally lost in thought. He didn't need to see, he could hear every noise from inside the house, including the light humming coming from inside the child's room. The sound of crayons moving across paper drifted to him. She was a charming thing; her bright eyes ensnared him every time. Those bright eyes that kept him from outright killing her; then the scent of familiarity – he could smell her mother's blood, and traces of things that a human would not, should not have. Traces that only he would possess.  
  
Right now she was quietly coloring, drawing a taller figure in black squiggles, with herself as a flying angel raining red everywhere. A shorter figure with long blond hair was in the taller dark figures arms with a scribbled in blue rectangle as a dress. Both had large smiles painted on their faces. The girl smiled, hoping her Daddy would like her gift. She added more touches of red to the black figure's face before hearing the movement of keys, then the opening of the front door.   
  
 _Momma and Auntie are back now?_  
  
Sia begins to get up but hung back seeing Chris walking inside alone. The gruff man's expression was blank save for the signs that he did his own fair share of grieving earlier. He smelt of cigarette smoke as if he took a few puffs before walking inside. Sia knew Momma would've been angry at him for doing that inside. But he was rifling in his pockets for something.  
  
His blue-grey eyes locked with the lone colorless one, neither moving.   
  
"What does she see in you?" He whispers at the impassive creature.  
  
He reaches into his pocket; the smell stings the child's nose the sheer amount of liquid massive.  
  
" _What does she see in you?_ " Chris whispers again.  
  
"I could've been there, I could've made things better…if she'd let me…" He trains the gun at the Tyrant's midsection. But despite the man's threat, the Tyrant had not responded, not moved nor made as much as a noise.  
  
"Aren't you going to fight me? Aren't you going to break me? You've taken everything else, why the hell not…" Tears were threatening to fall again but he held them inside. Monsters don't comprehend grief...  
  
Chris' hands start to shake; the Tyrant reaches out a tentacle wrapping around the weapon, pulling Chris forward aiming the gun at his head at point-blank range. The business end of the injector gun sits flush against his stapled scalp. They stare at each other for a good long moment, neither giving ground. Nothing else was said. Sia had slipped out of her room, walking past the distraught man and sitting on the B.O.W.s lap. She says not a word; the little girl just shakes her head at him.   
  
Her eyes say everything - killing Chris inside.  
  
His hand was on the deciding trigger; his hand could make this so much easier. He just wants everything to be the way it was…he just wants her to be happy.  _I…can't anymore…_  
  
He removes the gun slowly, lowering the fluid laden weapon towards the floor. It loosely sat in his shaky palm. He stood with his face a blank mask, his eyes the only clue of his troubled state of mind. He looks at both child and father and turns from them, walking out.  
  
…  
  
The two women double back to the house finding the van parked there. The two pull up to the yard wondering how they managed to miss him. They started to head towards the door only to see the man walking back outside, his face blank.   
  
As he passes them, Jill looks at him for a faint moment. The blond then turns her back on him walking briskly back inside. Sheva stays outside, lightly grabbing him by the arm.  
  
"Chris?"  
  
The tired man looks towards the tall woman, his face suddenly reading nothing but age and grief. The unused gun hung by his side in trembling hands. She put two and two together quickly, but seeing that neither party was harmed could only gather that nothing happened. But his eyes that once were full of youthful abandon were dim with loss.  
  
"She was right you know. I never deserved you."  
  
"I don't know if I can agree with that or not…but…was it all a lie?"  
  
He grabs her into a deep hug, and for the first time in a very long time, it felt real. She leans into his arms, missing his warmth his joking attitude before this trip. He leaned talking into her hair, "Not all of it. I never lied about how I felt about you…I…was just too weak to admit that I loved you both. I…I'm so sorry." The woman's knees felt weak; the gruff man held her up, keeping her from falling.   
  
He continued. "If you want to leave – I'll understand. If you want to hate me for everything – I'll understand. But understand that I did care even if I was too blind to my other feelings to properly show it." Arms tightened around each other, the two for this moment being honest with each other.  
  
Sheva let the tears fall, the simple admission enough for now. Whether she would stay…was an issue she would worry about when they got home.  
  
The two stood hugging like this, sharing in mutual grief over a lie – only to suddenly be surrounded by identical vans.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
The sounds of tires and engines filled the large yard. Jill stepped back out onto her front porch, stunned at the sheer amount of BSAA presence onto her property. She closed the front door behind her, giving Chris a dark glare. "What's the meaning of this?"  
  
Sheva yanked herself out of Chris' arms; "You called them?!"  
  
"No! I haven't been in contact since we left!" Chris held up his hands in surrender. The group of operatives, 20 strong surrounded the house with injector guns raised. All were dressed in riot gear, thick protective helmets, and Kevlar vests coated in anti-B.O.W. mesh. A familiar face came up towards the stunned group.  
  
"Ms. Valentine, we have received an anonymous tip that you of all people are harboring a B.O.W. threat. Is this true? Keep in mind doing so is a Federal as well as International Offense," Acting in Command Trent rattled off.  
  
Jill was stunned by the sudden massing around her property; she glared at Chris but his face read as much shock as hers. The only people that knew what inside were the three of them not including Sia.   
  
"And what proof other than a phone call do you have, Sir?" Jill irately asked.  
  
"Said caller sent in pictures. Rather clear pictures of the B.O.W. that once was under our custody by the name of Nemesis; and since you were known for training it before your retirement you are high on our suspect list. Now step aside so we can check your residence."  
  
"I see no papers. And pictures can be doctored. I have a six-year-old that doesn't need to take part in this wild goose chase. Now get off my property!"  
  
"Sorry, Ms. Valentine, but BSAA are required to investigate no matter the credibility of a tip. And this tip seems very likely especially since you seem to be merely buying time for whatever is inside. Now move!" Suddenly the sound of operatives smashing into the back windows was overheard. The shocked gasp of a child was heard. Jill's eyes widened in worry.  
  
"Look. Don't surround him. Please, I...I don't want anyone to get hurt." Jill softly begged.  
  
"Since when do the opinions of an ex BSAA and now Federal prisoner matter?"  
  
"Hey! That ex BSAA helped found this organization. And of all of you I'd listen –" Chris began.  
  
"You as well as Ms. Alomar should watch what you say as you both are also indicted for aiding and abetting."  
  
"Trent! Don't do this! He's docile now! That child inside doesn't need to be privy to this-" Chris began but was suddenly interrupted as an operative was bodily thrown out of a front window landing on the front lawn. Aside from a few cuts, he was otherwise fine.  
  
"Docile my ass. Teams all in!" Trent yelled into his headset.  
  
Five BSAA already were upon the tall figure cornering him within the breakfast nook; one tried to get a good aim at him but was knocked bodily onto the wall. The ones that came in all held injector guns realizing previously that bullets were useless against him. But they didn't account for the sheer speed and strength of him and were collectively finding themselves thrown or tossed aside like dolls. One operative caught the Tyrant's eye, carrying off the child struggling and fidgeting in his arms.  
  
He went to rush him but two other operatives suddenly caught in his path. The lone one with Sia slipped out of the mangled back patio.   
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
"Trent please, you don't understand. There's a child inside! She isn't used to all this!"  
  
"And harboring that monstrosity is any safer? What would drive you to do something so rash? It has killed so many and now you want me to believe it-"  
  
"He Trent, he." Chris corrects. Chris could see the rage building onto Jill's features; trying to explain would mean letting everything out in the open-  
  
"Don't tell me you are  _siding_  with her Mr. Redfield? Had the crazy spread amongst all of you? Why are you defending that thing?"  
  
"That  _thing_  that you so eloquently call  _him_  is the father of  _my child_. If you try and separate them, I can't be responsible if he rips your damn heads off!" Jill screamed her anger coming to a head.  
  
For a good long moment, everyone within earshot stopped in shock.  
  
"Wait what?" Trent sputtered in disbelief.   
  
"You heard me." Jill hissed. "And if any harm happens to either one of them-!" Sheva grabs Jill trying to calm the irate mother down.  
  
"Did you …did you  **know**  this Mr. Redfield?"   
  
Chris lowers his head and then looks Trent directly in the eye. "…Yes. And if any of this information leaves here, I will personally hold you responsible for the fallout Trent. I also don't believe that call was anonymous..."  
  
Movement out of the corner of Chris' eye caught him mid-sentence. Chris could see a flurry of brown hair struggling against a uniformed BSAA walking away not towards the group, both already a good distance along the side of the hill barely out of sight. Chris begins to sprint towards them, his injector gun rolling in his pocket. He also spied a glimpse of black going towards the same direction.   
  
"Mr. Redfield stop!" Trent yelled. Since most of the operatives were too busy following the Tyrant, Chris broke through their line easily. The click of a gun pointed at the two women stopped them from following. "Restrain these two inside the residence; we will continue pursuit of both Redfield and the B.O.W. with available units en route," the second rattled off into his headset his arm training the weapon towards the pair. The few operatives still on the porch front escorted both inside the battered house.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
Nemesis ran following the scent of the child. Dodging the others wasn't hard as much as aggravating. He didn't have time for them. The two were headed to a small brick storage shed located in the far back of Jill's property. It was normally untouched until the summer holding boating equipment; a dock was nearby.  
  
The BSAA that held the struggling child stopped, turning towards the gaining Tyrant. The man pulled off the helmet, exposing his aged face towards the B.O.W.  
  
"Hello, my child."  
  
 _…F…Father?_  
  
The man's impassive face studied the creature in front of him, the B.O.W. skidding to a complete stop. "It seems you do remember my son. My how much trouble you've caused. All over that little trouble back behind you. You were to be my crowning achievement you know. But- I cannot let your disobedience pass."  
  
 _Wha…what did I do?_    
  
Panting from behind him was Chris, already aiming his loaded Desert Eagle at the strange man. "Put the girl down…" He tried to get a clear shot but the fear of shooting the child made getting one off difficult...  
  
"You may call me Ghandon. Simon Ghandon. But as to your request; no."  
  
Before Chris could react his upper leg suddenly was filled with white-hot pain as a bullet entered and exited. The man fell to the ground the unexpected pain burning along his thigh ripping though tendon making walking an almost impossible task. "You bastard;  _you_  started all this?" He looked up in pain at the smoking Revolver in Ghandon's aged hands.  
  
"Why yes. See my son here was  _supposed_  to do what he was told and terminate you two. But it seems even Godly creations can develop  _flaws_." A deep growl came from the ailing man's side, Sia still struggling in Simon's grasp. For once both human and Tyrant both were in mutual agreement towards something. Chris could only struggle as he tried to aim his gun – but each time Simon would move the child in front of him preventing a clear shot.  
  
"Cheap bastard let her go!"  
  
"I'd rather not. Despite this child's unfortunate conception, she is of use to me. As to my living oldest…I do not allow for such disobedience nor for tampering with my will." Ghandon's voice stayed eerily calm throughout the exchange, devoid of excitement, life, pity. "But that's okay; children just need a strong hand to put them back on the right path, eh Nemesis?" The Tyrant could only snarl; he ran forward only to have his path blocked by a large figure. Before Chris could blink a large appendage ripped the weapon from his hands, then proceeded to toss it far over the side of the hill.  
  
"You've been running around being such a dreadful child. I think it's high time to instill some much needed discipline in you I'm afraid. You are my prodigal son, my Cain. Let my Abel show you the true way. Zeus, do your Father's will."  
  
A tall figure looked at Nemesis with two pupils-less eyes, the irises ringed in red. If not for that glaring difference (and missing stitches) the two would look identical. The Tyrant wore a modified limiter coat that was more body suit then coat, form-fitting at top save for the three straps around his middle. It gave the appearance of a black version of a straight jacket but with the arms fully covered but free. The backside bottom of the top silted open, allowing for freer leg movement; the long bottom pants folding into military style boots. Aside from these differences, the Tyrants stood at the same height. And with the movement of tentacles underneath his coat, one would assume the same abilities.   
  
Whoever assumed that thought, thought wrong.  
  
The newcomer growled towards his elder, licking his teeth, his eyes belying pent-up rage. Nemesis suddenly dodged to get at Ghandon – only to be bodily tossed like nothing across the field.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
A small group of BSAA sat watch over the two women, their faces that once read shock but now pure disdain for the two. Most are if not angry that they would even defend such a beast, disgusted that one would  _willingly_  sleep with it. Many of them were from the incident a month ago; witnessing him at his full unfettered power watching their comrades die. They said nothing, their haughty stares saying everything. Jill merely stared back, she in no mood, her child was missing and she wasn't allowed to go search. Trent headed the group his own face showing his wholesale contempt for the whole affair.  
  
Sheva notices that this time aside from a few bruises or minor sprains, the monster didn't actually kill any of them. The most that was broken here was Jill's house windows and their pride of being outrun by one target.  She wonders knowing how easily he could have decided to use lethal force - was he holding back for his child's sake…or Jill's?  
  
…  
  
He had only a half second before the world was moved out from under him. The movement was literally hard for him to follow despite the other's nearness to him. The sky filled his vision before the Tyrant felt feet press down onto his midsection thrusting him back to earth back first along with the additional weight.  
  
He grabbing upward pulled down Zeus' leg, flipping the other backward. He rushed up trying to pin the other but was knocked back by a full-on punch to the face. Nemesis felt a fracture form from the inside of his skull, purple blood leaking out from his maw. Again he was forced to the ground only to meet more vicious punches to the face, the flurry ending in a full-on headbutt.  
  
Zeus allowed tentacles to slide from under his topcoat ready to impale the elder's face. As both appendages shot towards him, Nemesis rolled the other off, the tendrils drilling through the ground. He used his own, pistol whipping the other in the face leaving scratch marks along Zeus' right side. While dazed, Nemesis grapples Zeus from behind pulling onto the younger's straps to get a good hold before kneeing him in the back. The movement would have snapped a human's spine easily but the other Tyrant seemed to not even register the assault.  
  
Instead Zeus back flips easily over his assailant, turning the tables on Nemesis – not before delivering a cheap shot punch to the back of his head. The dazed elder felt straps from his coat being shifted; the two larger straps from his middle were pulled up to his neck becoming wrapped around and pulled against his neck. This prompts him to stab Zeus from behind with his own tentacles. But the younger Tyrant again barely registered the assault dropping the straps – only to rip the impaling tentacles bodily from Nemesis.  
  
The Tyrant hurls the bloody appendages to the side relishing in his brother's screams. A heavy booted foot kicks Nemesis to the ground; he tried to roll again only to feel his brother's full on weight against his back. The trapped Tyrant rears his head back catching Zeus by surprise, before using his legs to flip him off trapping Zeus' legs with his own.  
  
But that became its own mistake as Zeus used the momentum to twist his own entangled legs, breaking Nemesis' lower left leg. Zeus had his brother where he wanted him now. He licked his teeth before reaching his hands towards Nemesis' face forcing his brother's maw open. The ailing Tyrant used all of his strength to bite down, causing the loss of a few of Zeus' fingers. The younger roars in pain then retaliates by ramming the other's face directly into the ground breaking a few front teeth.  
  
This was followed by more tentacles spearing into Nemesis' overtaxed body.   
  
 _Brother is so strong…how? Weren't we built the same?_  
  
Zeus' mere strength is beginning to overwhelm him, the battered Tyrant not expecting such a heavy assault. He was pushing through heavy pain now, the amount that made whatever the female ever threw at him pale in comparison. He tried to limp upward, elbowing the Tyrant but the effort barely registered. The world was slippery; so hard to move…the realization dawned on him that he was literally bathing in his own blood.  _So…so tired…_  
  
He hadn't felt so heavy with exertion in long, long time. His brother merely growled lowly before pressing fingers into his face wrenching out more screams of pain to his sadistic glee.  _So…so tired…didn't she tell me something like that ....once…_  
  
The sound of others reached his hearing, the steps overwhelming his senses before the taxed bio weapon blacked out.   
  
"DADDY! No no no no…" The child renews her struggles, the man's grip like iron.  
  
One operative made it down to the chaos, seeing Ghandon in the BSAA riot outfit. "Hey you aren't a part of our team; it is a Felony to impers-" The man didn't get to finish as he was shot point-blank through the head. The BSAA that ran down the hill behind him were only carrying injector guns; they weren't expecting human interference.   
  
"Zeus, take care of these interloping humans. They are only in the way."  
  
Zeus looked up with a vicious gleam, punching Nemesis hard in the neck before dropping him like a rock. The humans did not expect to see two of them, but the glare from the two-eyed beast was the last they saw as one of the newcomers were impaled through the anti-B.O.W. mesh. Another was speared through their riot helmet the material being no more resistant than glass to the Tyrant. The troops were being cut down, they not standing remotely a chance against Zeus.  
  
Chris meanwhile had managed to slide himself with his disabled leg near Ghandon, the man's pet monster in a grim pit fight with the Tyrant. The lanky older man merely looked downward at the desperate man on his knees. He aimed his gun towards the limping BSAA's head before the impassive man's face flared in pain. Chris had stabbed him in his lower leg with his pocket knife, hoping to get him to drop Sia. Despite the wound, the older man merely grit his teeth the outburst fading back into a mask of cold indifference.  
  
What Chris did not expect was the rush of air before landing side first onto the brick of the storage shed. Seemed the other Tyrant was done slaughtering the others and was now perfectly happy in tearing him apart. Chris looked out of the corner of his eye, the socket fractured and bleeding to the pile of black still unmoving. He…was still out.  
  
 _…wake up you fucking monster!_  
  
Chris felt fingers clasp around his throat, the large digits beginning to close slowly. The man struggles already feeling dizzy from the lack of air as well as blood loss from his first in air flight. He could see the sadistic glee from the monster's eyes, the gaze reminding him of his past run-ins with the unconscious monster behind him. He could hear the child behind him struggling in that man's arms.  _The bastard is watching this like it was sport!  
  
I do this for Jill and Sia…not you…_  
  
He rams his knife into the side of Zeus' head causing him to rear back. Chris forces himself to roll onto his injured leg, causing another flare-up of pain. He landed beside Nemesis still out. Seeing him up close the large pool of purple became all the more apparent. The monster had taken an extraordinary amount of damage…but Chris thought downing him was nigh impossible…  
  
 _Please get up…I know you can't be…_  
  
A large shadow cast over the top of them, Zeus glaring at both. Tentacles roped from underneath his top, the monster all the more eager to hand out the killing blow. "So…" he spoke coughing up blood, "You're letting this guy do your dirty work. How pathetic old man."  
  
"Hah, from what I can see humans are the more pathetic species, Mr. Redfield. Kill him, my son."  
  
Zeus aims three tentacles at Chris; the BSAA only had time to shoot a doubled up tip of liquid into the large creature causing him to keel over with the sudden shock to his system. Chris dived towards Ghandon hoping the dose would buy him time. The older man had not expected such an event trying to dodge Chris. Chris started to grab at him the shot in his leg making movement more and more intolerable. A small item fell out of the man's coat…before three large impalements pushed neatly through Chris' body.  
  
 _Get up…please…!_  
  
Chris's body was ripped apart, each tentacle rending through vital organs. The monster lifted his still struggling body up from the ground each appendage ripping into Chris' screaming body more – before tossing him aside him bodily landing onto his head. As quick as he landed, his screams died out along with the fire in his blue-grey eyes.  
  
"Humans are such an expendable species." Ghandon murmured, not so much as showing a drop of mercy for the fallen man nor the traumatized child in his arms.   
  
"Unca'…why Mr. …..Why my Unca' too?" Sia's eyes had gone a shade paler; they filled with tears and faintly the gleam of deep unnatural rage.   
  
"It is for the best little girl." Simon brings a rag to the child's face, the heavy smell causing her whole face to turn away in horror.  
  
"No not the bleach! Please, ...it  _burns_!" The man's hand clasped tightly over the child's face flooding her with a heavy dose of Invidia. She bodily flailed for a few moments before dropping unconscious in Simon's arms.  
  
"Shush little one, I'm saving you from such blatant failing. You are the key to a new kingdom, pet."  
  
The child's screams were one of the first sounds he heard from his rise from unconsciousness to the scene of various dead bodies…including that male; his voice the other sounds that faintly drifted to him…that male was guarding him…and his child. Despite his waking, he was in no state to fight, his mind usually was the first thing to recover, secondly being his body. He could barely sit up his form in various states of disrepair.  
  
Blood coated was his eye as he looked at his child, laying limp in that man's arms – that man who ruled him used him, abused him, made him. He looked up into the sky, as he fell onto his hands. Nothing but stars as far as the eye could see… The presence of someone behind him barely registered; it leaned near his face, down to his ear hole to hiss, ~Being around these humans. Made you weak….you have no place. Amongst us! It is only fitting. We hand you your judgment.~ Arms hugged around the Tyrant's neck, arms that felt nothing for him but familial rage. Arms that judged him by twisting sharply then letting his tall form fall to the earth. Blackness; a familiar and yet cold place opened to him, the gurgle of his own throat lost onto his dead body.  
  
Zeus begins to extend his tentacles outward, planning on beheading his brother. The fallen Tyrant was laying in a pool of his own blood, his body cooling from the rapid blood loss.   
  
"Come, Zeus, let my misbegotten child live with his punishment. This is what happens when you run afoul your Father – placing some woman above me…" The man murmured his voice coated faintly in jealous anger. "But that's okay; this one will be our future."  
  
Zeus looked down at his brother's corpse. If he could sneer he would have, his victory very gratifying. He kicks Nemesis far down over the hill – snarling in irritation that he didn't get to finish what he started.  
  
  
  
The group head to the dock, escaping upon a hidden motorboat.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
Both women, as well as the few left inside the damaged residence, heard the outside fighting but all stayed put; Trent heading out to survey the damage. But it had been minutes, an hour - she wasn't sure…all that Jill knew that it was too long without a confirmation. She suddenly got up the BSAA surrounding her rising to keep her back. One went to restrain and suddenly found their face caught in a roundhouse kick. The group apparently was not aware of her past in weapons and fighting skills. Seven years did not dull that much as she caught another in the chest.  
  
The three others approached realizing what was going on. They didn't get a hand on Jill as Sheva backhanded one into a living room table, and another received a full on punch to the gut. The lone one left standing surrendered knowing the odds were stacked against him. The two run outside the damaged house, towards the source of the noise only to make it to a field of death. The troops save for one, Trent, were all dead. He had run out to investigate the screaming from outside but stopping only halfway to them…the man was petrified seeing the wholesale slaughter of everyone.  
  
Sheva goes up to the man, shaking him from his frozen stupor. "Who …did this?"  
  
The man could only mutter, "There were two of them. One of them killed the other, and Redfield and everyone…everyone…!" The man sank to the ground the look of shell shock filling his features. The two left him there the immediate concern over what happened pushing them forward.  
  
What they found was once a flat plain piece of land and a brick shed now turned into a land of death and carnage. Troops had tale tale signs of their cause of death; each full of puncture wounds that no normal weapon could do. But alongside the tracks of blood were high amounts of purple and stray tentacles.   
  
 _Where is Sia?_  
  
The two walked amidst the death to have both blue and brown eyes land onto a familiar sight. Sheva rushed down cupping the man in disbelief.   
  
"Get up Chris…please get up…you…!" Both women's faces read shock, the man's body riddled with large puncture wounds as well as his oddly turned head. His neck was discolored as if…he landed this way. Sheva sharply turned to Jill, her face reading nothing but pure shock.  
  
"He never …he never deserved this…Did he Jill!? Did he? Did he redeem himself for you!? Jill! Answer me!" Sheva voice drops from questioning to silence; the woman leaning down sobbing openly over Chris' brutally beaten corpse. In her grief, Sheva knew now, that despite the lies, the pretending, she still loved him and would always. To see him destroyed like this…her heart broke in her sorrow.  
  
Jill holds the distraught woman, trying to bring her comfort. Despite his faults, despite their arguments and strained relationship, despite it all, he was still a good man: a good man that only wanted to do right.  _He didn't deserve this…_  
  
Chris was clutching in his bruised right hand a worn item; a wallet. She opened it seeing an ID. Simon Ghandon. The wallet had said worn Umbrella lab ID with a key card. The rising anger that rose the moment she saw Chris' body now had a face to focus on. The item was confirmation that the dead man was alive and had now decided to mess with their lives.  
  
But alongside that was worry. Jill rose up her hands shaking.   
  
"Sia?! Girly Girl?! Rhamnusia Taylor Valentine!! Answer me!" Her voice was starting to crack with newfound worry and fear. "If you're here girly, answer me...Please!"  
  
She received no answer, just the sound of her voice bouncing off the purple and red-clad area. She cupped her hand over her mouth, trying to focus through the real fear that her little girl was gone. Her eyes filled with dread, wondering what could have caused this.  _'There were two of them'…_  She leans down giving Sheva a hug in comfort before letting go. She begins to walk towards the train of purple leading off the edge of the hill. Sheva suddenly grabs Jill's arm stopping her with broken eyes.  
  
"I need to find him," was all Jill could say.  
  
The younger BSAA's voice was barely a whisper. "Do you think he's dead too?"  
  
Jill looked to the purple trail, then to Chris. Her face suddenly became eerily calm.   
  
"…all I know is I must go down there. I must be sure. I must be sure whether to put in two bullet holes in someone's brain or three."


	7. SofD - 6 Jupiter

**Jupiter**  
  
 _'…you wanna be on my team? We're the BAD guys.'_  
  
  
Jill starts to walk towards the increasingly massive trail down the sloping hill. It was a part of her property that she didn't allow Sia to play in; the general nature of the land out here was hilly and woody. The flat land she had planned on doing something with eventually but hadn't thought about it in years. The acreage that at once was a major selling point to her now only held death. The train of purple kept going further down, almost down to the docks. She noted footprints in that direction, a set of larger ones the more noticeable as they were ringed in purple – as if they literally waded in it.   
  
But the trail twisted sharply to the left, along with a few shreds of leather found along the grass. With each step, her hands wrung in worry. It had been a good few minutes now. Even in Raccoon he never took that long to 'revive' to her at the time dismay. But the blond kept walking, braving the steep hill – till she had to restrain the sharp cry from herself at the lump of black ringed in a halo of purple.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
Sia feels nothing but dizziness and the high urge to vomit. That stuff burns – just getting a good whiff makes her insides flip-flop. She wants to curl up into a ball, but she doesn't want the strange man to know she's awake. The sounds of water hitting the sides of the craft along with a loud engine fill her ears. She isn't sure how much time has passed since being taken from her family.  
  
 _He's wrong, and he let this other kill everyone. Why? What did Unca' and Daddy do? He called Daddy his son, is he related to me? But if so why would he kill Daddy then? Family don't hurt each other. Unca' Chris looked like he was going to, but he was just mad. People get mad all the time.  
  
This man...he isn't, can't be family. And this other...he looks like Daddy, but...doesn't act or smell like him. Not at all. He bothers me...but I dislike this old man more. The other didn't do anything till the man said so. He...he said he was punishing Daddy...  
  
...for being with Momma. Why? And where are we going?  
  
It's rocking too much, and it's so cold.  
  
I want to go home._  
  
She lets one eye slit open, only to have the angry empty glare of Zeus baring down on her.  _He looks like Daddy, but Daddy never looked at me like that before_. A short growl comes from his throat causing the small girl to curl up instinctively tighter, even more frightened of her two captors.  
  
"Oh is our little guest awake? You should go back to sleep or you'll ruin the surprise."  
  
"No more Mister. No more bleach...it makes me feel so bad..."  
  
"Oh don't be that way," Ghandon says coldly, "it's just your medicine. Be a good girl and take it now."  
  
The child felt the strong hands of Zeus pull her roughly up, the thick rag coming towards her face again. "Please-" She was sharply cut off, the heavy sedative pushing her back into unconsciousness.  
  
Somewhere along her times of awake and asleep, she could have sworn that the rocking had stopped, and could faintly feel herself being moved from the boat to that of a large vehicle…but that was all she could make out before being again drugged into darkness.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
She started to make her way slowly towards the fallen monster but heard the loud shuffle of the BSAA regrouping from the house. They were all clustered behind her, injector guns drawn.   
  
"Step aside Valentine, or you'll have interfering with extradition added to the charges already against you," Trent warns.  
  
"No."  
  
"Move, Valentine."  
  
Jill stands in front of his beaten body. "He's my responsibility."  
  
"He's responsible for so many lives lost! Do you wish to take on that burden?"   
  
"Don't act like you care either way. That man who left with our child has done far, far worse. If you think you can afford to take him and whatever he had with him out without this guy's help go ahead. Take him out. But you'll have to go through me first." Her face held sorrow, visibly shaken by the amount of damage within such a short span, Chris...him...laying there...  
  
"Well then I will have to use force." Trent starts to aim his gun at Jill…but Sheva steps in causing Trent to lower the weapon. Trent glares at the woman, not expecting her to interfere. "ALL B.O.W.s are a threat girls; you are by interfering, committing a federal crime."   
  
"So you guys plan on taking out whatever crazy walking around with a Tyrant all by yourselves? You guys could barely handle Nemesis and he wasn't even trying to kill."   
  
Trent scowled in irritation. "We don't work with monsters. We used  _that_  as an exception – an unfortunate one."  
  
"Well, I'll put it like this. We are going to find our child. Whether or not I have to break the law to do it, so be it. Now you either help us or get out of our way."  Jill stood her ground, staring down the ragged remnants of survivors of the night's tragic events.  
  
The members behind Trent lowered their weapons for the moment, the two parties at an impasse.  
  
"You walk away from us and you become 'shoot to kill' targets," The warning tone of Trent's voice made the statement not a threat, but a promise.  
  
"Then I'll take that chance," the blond countered.  
  
"No. We're not." The tired voice of the cocoa skinned woman cut into the standoff. "Stop trying to act all high and mighty Trent. If they stay within sight you know that doesn't apply. Considering you stood there and watched everyone die – I find your opinion questionable."  
  
"What you've had me do?" The look of both embarrassment and anger crossed the acting lead's features.  
  
"Fight, that's what they pay you for! No, why don't you stand down? I'm taking over."  
  
"You can't-"  
  
"I can and shall. Considering the majority of your team is dead and you not so much as lifting a finger, I'd find cowardice during a mission more intimidating than harboring an observably docile B.O.W." Sheva crossed her arms, already tired of the man.  
  
"What? Sheva I think your grief is over clouding your judgment-"  
  
"You said yourself there were two. I doubt he'd beat himself for kicks. That and last I checked we aren't dead. If he wanted to we would be. That in itself is my proof.  
  
"Now do you want things to get messy at the back office? I have way more field experience than you and know what we are facing. Hell, she has way more experience and she's retired. I'd rather not have to deal with dragging each person out here into the field of court to establish how useless you are.   
  
"So, pick your choice, work with us or get laughed out of the BSAA?" Sheva stared at the man heatedly, despite her grief angry – Chris' body had yet to cool and already he's tossing his weight around!  
  
Trent turned and took Sheva by the shoulder, leading her away from earshot. "We need to talk. Now."  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
"Wake up. I know you hear me."  
  
The people behind her had backed away closer to the house proper, but still nearby in case they were to flee...Like she would leave him here like this? Jill didn't mind though. She wanted privacy, just a little. She was trying so hard to process everything. Chris was dead, Sia was gone – and lying here unresponsive was by the looks of things a monster beaten to hell and back. She had sat here for the better half of a few hours now waiting, hoping for him to get up.  
  
She reached a shaky hand across the necrotic skin, it shades paler then it should be. Various bruises, and marks peppered along his prone body along with various stumps where it looked a tentacle used to be. She never knew he could bruise but seeing it in stark contrast made her heart lurch. Rips along his well-worn coat were located in various places, each showing a deep puncture wound if one looked in further.  
  
His face was never one to have beauty as a virtue, but now it looked ten times worse in such a bruised and bloody state. His one lone eye looked swollen, and dark purple coated it, his blood almost painting over his entire face. His maw was just as bad, a few teeth even missing along with more blood. Limbs were turned in unnatural angles even for him. She could not help but lean on him, the Tyrant in no way functioning nor showing signs of life. She...she expected him to be up, to be healing like the beast from nightmare he always was known for.   
  
Jill did what she could only do in her state; she started to softly beat against his still chest.  
  
"You know I hate it when you don't look at me…so …so don't lay there! Look at me!!" She starts to shake in her anger and sadness, "You aren't supposed to die; you've outlived more than a roach!"   
  
She punches him harder hoping to get a response. "Stop being lazy and get the hell up!"  
  
Collapsing onto his torn trench coat, she murmurs into the leather, "Don't pull this shit on me again…you can't…I can't deal with that again…"  
  
 _Should I shut down? Dreaming never hurt. Dreaming took nothing._  
  
She promised. She promised stars – but deep down he knew that was an impossible thing.  
  
Stars are unattainable, fickle things, wishes that can never happen that drift in the sky.  
  
But what she gave instead ...was worth fighting for. He was broken beyond repair then too…but fate chose to bring him back. Fate turning the wheel over and over again. Each time finding himself returning to her. Each time revisiting the same events, the same things like a tape on repeat.   
  
But this time…they both could both choose what to do without the strings attached.  
  
 _No regrets this turn of the wheel._  
  
Jill leaned against him, not wanting to let go. It was cruel; again only being granted one night; one night of happiness just to see it all go like a piss poor fairytale -  
  
The slow, shaky movement of a large hand stroked her face. The simple movement looked to be a struggle, but it was enough. She looked up towards him, seeing him slowly work his eyelid open. The pallor his skin had taken was slowly changing to a darker shade; a wound on his side Jill could actually see slowly knitting itself back together. She had never directly witnessed him regenerate, just the aftermath. But it was enough to have her cry softly in happiness.  
  
The feeling of his consciousness forcibly being woken; his parasitic 'self'  bonding back with the slowly healing corpse he 'inhibited' was a cold, disorienting thing - the blackness of death both peaceful and yet... The feeling of being bodily resuscitated by his own parasitic mind was never a truly pleasant feeling. He could feel places slowly healing the sheer amount of damage to repair causing its own amount of pain. But her voice, that troubled soft voice….  
  
She worried about him. She genuinely worried about him. No one, not even Father had ever spared him such things. It conjured up a strange feeling, a good one he supposed. It was better than hearing her cry...he never liked being the cause of it. He slowly forced himself to work through the pain to turn his bloody and beaten face looking up at her himself barely lucid, and haggardly breathing.   
  
She lets out a sharp sound of relief then buries her face in his coat again. She softly murmurs, "Sia…"  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
The sounds of multiple ambulance vehicles can be heard arriving in the background. Trent and Sheva were by the broken glass patio door, away from the milling of ambulance and still living troops. The two BSAA were still privately arguing over the best course of action until Trent suddenly decided to change the subject.  
  
"Let me level with you Sheva, alright?" Trent looks at her, his hands folded.  
  
"Let me tell you a story, a bit about myself." Sheva shifts in irritation.  
  
"Fine. But I don't see how this will change anything..."   
  
"Just let me say my piece." The man leaned against the back house wall.  
  
"Well...I wasn't the best of people. But I had plans, hopes for my life. I since I think the age of five wanted to join the military. You get to save lives and get to see places. Hell, that was the major selling point – anything to get out of that shitty town. I didn't need Umbrella to tell me that Raccoon was a shit hole. A shiny corporate owned shit hole, but still full of shit. Did JROTC, filled out forms in advance, hell I had my Dad take me on weekend tours during the year at military academies. I wanted to be a soldier; I wanted to be somebody.  
  
"But I was a kid man, I had a life too. Too much of a life in hindsight. My old lady Gwen...we were young; stupid in love. We had it all worked out, we'd get married once we turned 18, I'd join the military and then take her with me around the world." He laughs a deep almost nervous laugh, a glimmer of sadness filling his eyes.  
  
"But shit, she got pregnant. Can you imagine, at 15 us talking about our future family...only to have it dropped on our laps like a heavy weight? 15 and pregnant. We were so scared man, so fucking scared. But we thought 'well we'll just have our family early, it's all good.'   
  
"We were so stupid.  
  
"She had the kid too; Tomas was such a loud little shit kicking and screamin'. But we were like 'that's a part of us – we made that'. We stupid kids made that. Everything'll be okay." Another deep bitter laugh filled the air.  
  
"But it wasn't. We had to grow up. She and I dropped out of high school to raise him. She waitressed for a time at J's Bar under a fake ID, I worked some odd jobs, some under the table. The money wasn't great but we dealt with it. Tomas was going to have a stable home. Even though we two both wanted out.  
  
"It was subtle at first; Gwen would come home from work tired. I would wanna you know and she'd give me the cold shoulder. I'd stay out late and get the third degree. She'd start heading out after work. Fingers started to point at each other, the fights started...  
  
"It was soo bad...Tomas didn't deserve all this. We should've thought of him...but we were still kids, stupid kids that were forced to grow up but yet never filled completely into our adult bodies. It went like this for years. We lived together but never married. That dream died years in. We had one bad fight, really fucking bad. I was drunk admittedly. That night I packed a suitcase and just stormed out; took my car and drove. I just drove for hours. I slept in my car for days. Fuckin' mature right?"  
  
Sheva could only nod, seeing how this story was heading - she didn't know he was a Raccoon survivor.  
  
"But you know what was fucking stupid about it all? When I decided to drive back down back to that shitty situation, that shitty town, I ...I couldn't find it. All that was left was a 'caution: quarantine' sign and a crater. A smoking crater where all my friends, family, and my girl and child were. I was 21 with a dead wife and child. I mean despite all our shit she was like a wife to me. I didn't need a ring to prove that.  
  
"A part of me wanted to believe they got out, but I doubted it. Everything I had known or loved in that shitty town was gone. I had nothing left... so I went forward with my dream to join the military three years late." The wistful yet bitter look that had filled his face now was full of pride, the look of a soldier that took pride in what he did.    
  
"I was in for awhile, paying the world my dues till I heard they were recruiting for this BSAA I heard about on the field. Saying they needed fresh faces but in their Cali location. I mean I had every reason to go and put down some bioweapon ass but really? I just wanted to move on and serve my country.   
  
"The night before the group recruiter for the BSAA was to entertain requests I received an email. It was addressed to my old school nick Tra Tra. No one has called me that …since Raccoon. The thing had this large attachment enclosed. So I opened it." BSAA see many horrible things in their line of work - but Trent's face took on an almost sickly shade...as if he was reliving something truly disturbing.   
  
"I wish to this day I hadn't.   
  
"That video was what made me join the BSAA that day.  
  
"Wanna know what was on it?   
  
  
"My son was on it." His face fell, it reflecting a mix of horror and grief.  
  
"He...he looked so scared. Have you ever seen fear read on a six-year-old? It's different then on an adult, an adult could at least in some part comprehend why they are afraid, what's to come. But a six-year-old...   
  
"He was fucking six and a half! That crossing guard failure of a cop, that little bitch Vickers did nothing! Just sat and watched that fucking bastard rip the throat out of my son! That child screamed, begged for his life...and he was just torn apart. Then as if he wasn't good enough ... spit my child's mangled voice box onto the floor. Like some used gum."  
  
The visibly distraught man lights up a cigarette to calm his nerves.  
  
"No one should ever feel the agony of seeing your own flesh and blood die like that. No one, especially a child should die like that to such fucking trash. I wanted to put a bullet in every B.O.W. I could find. But what made it more was that the note said I could do this and more if I join. But it seemed you BSAA folks love your jokes. I get stationed out here and come to find out that beast is here, living like a fucking king. All the no names and grunts all like what 80% of your damn workforce – we all wanted him dead. Then to find out Redfield changed his gawddamn mind to terminate, caving in to his crazy ex ...I realized then that the brass never gave a damn about us.   
  
"So I jumped through hoops, made myself work harder. When that thing got blown up I wasn't the only one happy. Fuck Valentine and her damn tears. Let her cry! I was glad she left too. Snotty bitch never talked to anyone like she's all that. Guess she was indeed that Tyrant's bitch what with all that depressed shit she did afterward.   
  
"But I got another email, a recent one – tellin' me that same bastard was going on a rampage. I'm all the hell it's  _still_  alive? That was all the information I was given goddamn somethings should just stay dead. Redfield thought we all gathered cause of his rank; naw they just wanted a piece of that bastard. Word passed from those in the know to others...the people wanting to jump on board spread like wildfire. A lot of them knew people that bastard directly took out in that fail of a lab mission where it was found and should have been left. Who was I to tell them no? Despite the losses, we weren't the intended target considering it bee-lined straight for that fool. Let Redfield dance with it. Bout damn time the brass got their hands dirty around here. Too bad he survived."  
  
Sheva wanted to interject but Trent kept on, no longer holding back his true feelings.  
  
"Then I find out that stupid bitch had its child?! You fucking kidding me? If I had leave then I would've personally flown out here a day earlier and bitch slapped her myself. But I was told to not say anything, just act normal during this detainment here. Besides in the email, my private source told me I'd get paid handsomely for the little hellspawn. Guess they figured I needed motivation.   
  
"Fuck, I didn't care about the money.   
  
"I wanted it to suffer. I asked it of my online friend, I requested it. 'You can have Redfield, he's a pussy. As long as you beat the fucking shit out of that monster while its little bastard kid watches. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, man'."  
  
Sheva internally is restraining the rising urge to gut this man...he has no right to do this! Neither Chis, Jill nor Sia had anything to do with his loss...  
  
"So you let all those people die? While you just stood there?" Her voice was thin, barely able to contain her feelings of anger and betrayal towards this man. "But what of all these witnesses?"   
  
"I saw nothin'," he says nonchalantly. "The people watching you didn't hear or see either. Everyone can just say that bastard did it. Not like it hasn't before. Really, who would take your side? This is about justice Alomar. This is how we run this here. Or did you forget while getting it from Redfield every night? The people who died died for justice. Unlike you three playing house with a monster. You fucks make me sick. A good B.O.W. is a dead B.O.W. and I hope that crazy old man chops that kid up. At least Tomas ...can finally be put to rest."   
  
A loud slap fills the air; Sheva's face filled with indignant rage. Trent backed up slightly holding his face, but otherwise looked at her with smug satisfaction. "You sure played a good game, making me believe you were shocked at all of those people dying, of Jill... you knew what would happen, you coward! You let them all; you let Chris die over an old vendetta?!" Sheva couldn't help the anger that seeped into her voice.  
  
"No better than Josh making those others die to even keep it. I'd like to think it's just a more noble way to weed out the weak links that have plagued the BSAA for a long, long time."   
  
"I'm going to help her get her child; that child is family. If that makes me stupid so be it." Sheva turns from him attempting to leave, hearing enough.   
  
Trent grabbed her arm mid-turn. "I thought you were the smarter one Sheva; obviously I was wrong. You go and you both die. I couldn't give a shit about Jill, but you, you're better than that. Stuck with that old man who was too busy running off after that blond albino freak at her beck and call, it was obvious he didn't give a shit-"  
  
"And you do? No, you don't and I'll be damned to sit and do nothing to please BSAA politics! Besides you never said you didn't take Ghandon's money. You're no better than the people you put down – if anything worse as a B.O.W. trader is padding your pocket. Is that why none of us BSAA found him all this time?"  
  
"He's a means to an end. You come along on the good ship, or you sink alone on the Titanic, Sheva."  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
The group behind them looked on with mixed looks of astonishment and rage, seeing the Tyrant yet again defy all odds to walk amongst them all after being clinically dead for the past five hours. The monster had slowly raised from the ground a tentacle already extending out replacing a lost one. His 'tan' like tint to his skin had returned along with his missing teeth. Despite the still present but fading bruises, he was on the mend.  
  
They both note the small group along with paramedics and even more BSAA canvassing her land.   
  
 _How is everyone getting here so quickly?_  
  
Eyes were on the both of them; Sheva standing against the side of the house looking distant after having the length conversation with Trent. Both walk inside the ravaged house that merely a week ago had been a home. Broken panes of glass littered the floor, along with whatever toppled or broken furniture that was unfortunate enough to be in the path of the storm the BSAA was visiting upon it. She could already see troops circling around the residence again like expectant sharks.  
  
Jill walked inside the child's room. She stood in the doorway for a long moment, taking in the room full of memories now scattered with the shattered glass of the bedroom window. Her tired blue eyes landed onto a picture lying on the floor; a with childlike accuracy hand-drawn family portrait. The woman knelt placing the picture over her heart.   
  
Blue eyes met lone colorless as she picked up a color pencil.  
  
...  
  
Sheva had turned from Trent seeing the job that she loved in a different and uncomfortable light.  _Was everyone truly against them all? Was this a coop they couldn't have prevented?_  All she knew was that if they didn't come out peacefully... the troops outside, especially the new arrivals want blood now. Seeing their comrades fill up Jill's lawn in various states of death made mercy a nonexistent option for neither the Tyrant or human.  
  
She walked into the battered residence.   
  
She walked inside, seeing both Jill and him crouched over something inside Sia's room. Sheva walked up to see them reading Sia's bedtime story book. It was an odd activity to be doing right now – but when she looked at Jill's face...the look of loss that filled her eyes made the moment all the more crushing. Jill turns to face Sheva; within seconds both were enclosed in a deep hug.   
  
In that hug, Sheva was slid the children's book. She traded the small item in her pocket to Jill, both knowing that things were going to be tough from here on out. Sheva lets go, nodding to the woman's silent partner before making her way out the front door. Time seemed to move slowly as the BSAA walked through the ajar door frame.  
  
As soon as she stepped outside, expectant eyes turned towards her.  
  
"They're ...they're coming out peacefully, okay? Please, stand down." Sharp laughter could be heard from the many troops in response to her plea, all amassed outside the broken residence. Sheva could only grip the worn book, the grinning monsters along its front the only innocence found amongst these armed monsters posing as justice.  
  
Jill and Nemesis both come out slowly through the front door, both with their arms behind their backs. The looks of pure hate from the gathered operatives poured onto both, the woman's grief not fazing their vengeful accusing glares. The Tyrant had to bow forward to avoid clipping the doorway, before rising to his full height. He stood in almost defiance of them all, staring them down. Those that stared at Jill could not do the same towards him without feeling complete unnerving dread. But other than his visible disdain, Nemesis kept quiet.  
  
The two were being led to vans further back; caging and metal bars dotted all exits, and the metal of cuffs reflected the stars and the high beams of various vans. As they slowly passed by Sheva's van; Nemesis stopped.   
  
The BSAA near started to tentatively poke his side, yelling at Jill to make him move. But he stood stock still, causing a number of troops to cluster around him.  
  
"Move or we sedate! Now!"  
  
The voice that shouted the order caused the B.O.W. to turn towards him – before being shouldered clear across the lawn. Many were now trying to aim their weapons missing the B.O.W. in his fit. Jill took this moment to run, dodge rolling past the milling BSAA. She made it to her car's side door jumping into the driver's seat.   
  
By the time the group realized what had happened, Jill had already powered on the car's engine. Many went to move to their vans in pursuit but found that one was lifted then topped to its side. Another had its engine block punched in. A hard screech and Jill had peeled out onto the gravel powering the compact down the twisting backwoods paths that she knew well.  
  
As soon as she was clear, Nemesis yanked one BSAA bodily by the arm, tossing him in a van's path. The van skidded to a halt barely missing the unfortunate man. Others were bodily shoved out of the way, as he started to sprint into the wooded area that surrounded the property. Many tried to follow but just like Jill, the Tyrant knew how to hide and hide well, the two losing their pursuers easily.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
She woke to the heavy smell of dust, the heaviness of it almost causing her to sneeze. Sia chanced a glance seeing a dirty yet bold red and white logo resembling an umbrella top.  The logo was everywhere, on the floors on the walls, but the wording around them was illegible, the years wearing off the once deep black lettering.   
  
The man was ahead of them; he typed onto a keypad leading them down to a third-floor storage room. It smelled worse here...like something old and rotted. They walked towards a side wall hidden behind large crates.  
  
The human shuffles inside his pockets, the sound of irritation coming from him as if he was searching for something. A low grunt came from the one holding her prompting Sia to close her eyes again. She hoped they didn't realize she was awake.  The sound of keystrokes then the shunting of air filled the small dead room as metal opened the way to a new part of the lab complex.   
  
The blinding white lab stung her eyes – but something else caused her blue eyes to widen in dread. A large chair filled with straps sat in a corner, surrounded by various monitors. Along the walls were assorted lab equipment; all sharp, all clean and pristine. Alongside them were lab tables covered in droplets of dried purple.   
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
Sheva watched as the two orchestrate a near-perfect escape.  _It's funny. The two would've made; no, in fact, have made great partners when put to the task. The fact that despite the years both could still pull off such tactics-_  
  
"Alomar! Did you tip them off?!"  
  
"No. They did that on their own. I guess the Titanic managed around  _that_  iceberg."  
  
"You- I could get you for conspiracy!"  
  
"With what evidence? I didn't so much as talk to them. We just read a story before leaving." She held the book tightly in her hand, the loss of the child coupled with Chris filling her mind.  
  
Trent despite his agitation due to the two's escape, couldn't hold his up cold appearance. Sheva was merely a causality of war.  _She'll eventually come around_  – Trent knew of all of them Sheva was well respected and known for loving her job as fiercely as she loved Chris. "Sheva, head out – in fact, you are no longer involved in this. I'll even see that the charges against you are dropped. But beware; you drop one hand back into this and I'll have you in Federal jail so fast the air from the door will need a good moment to catch up to your ass!"  
  
She looks into the man's eyes, hers full of pure contempt. "And them? What will happen when they are captured?"  
  
"What capture? I was serious. The BSAA is advised to shoot to kill both as armed and dangerous Federal fugitives. But that's none of your concern. Go home."   
  
…  
  
Sheva could only grab what she could from the home, and walk to her rented van. The two had been missing now for a good number of hours; the sun's rays starting to saturate the landscape. She sat in her driver's seat preparing herself to leave... _but for what_? She felt cornered and useless the situation having quickly spiraled out of control.  _Hearing Chris crack a cheesy joke or complain about needing a cig would be great about now..._ Her head sat against the steering wheel, so lost. She grabbed the worn book, wondering if maybe its childlike pictures could give her inspiration like it did those two. Her hand grazed the cherished book, opening up the colorful pages. Inside the middle was one of Sia's drawings.  
  
She held it to her chest, closing her eyes. As she began to place it back inside, the neatly written lettering on the back of it caught her attention.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
"Place her down and resume your patrol, Zeus." The impassive man directed.  
  
The child forced herself to not react, the Tyrant placing her down roughly onto a cold lab table. The faint crinkle of leather was the only sign that he had left at all. The sound made her deeply sad – seeing her Daddy staring up so helpless; the image haunted her thoughts along the journey from home to this cold, frightening place.   
  
"What a pretty thing...a perfect little angel you are, one part devil and one part lowly human. A perfect arbiter to put humankind in its place." He leans down his voice showing forced emotion, stroking the child's face. Sia could not help but flinch, the touch making her skin crawl.  
  
"Oh little girl, are you now awake? Let me help you get more comfortable." He begins to move straps out from the underside of the table, reaching for the child. As Simon reached over to put one small arm into the restraints, Sia springs upward, jumping down onto the cold white floors.  
  
"Little girl, what are you doing? Don't run I'm only helping you." A smile that neither calmed nor convinced the child of his 'good intentions' only caused the child to bolt past him into another open room. It was filled with various cylindrical stasis units, filled to the brim with clear fluid – and specimens of increasing grotesqueness.   
  
"Oh, do you wish to play hide and seek? Why not...we can talk and get to know each other better." Sia keeps running, the man's sudden lilt to his voice unnerving her more, not less.  
  
"Hmm...Sia is your name, is it? Or rather Rhamnusia…what a cute name. Crafty even."  
  
She didn't answer, the child tugging on her necklace. It had been woven through the eyelet of a large piece of leather, the buckle hanging freely against her top. She slid behind a smaller container, pinning herself against it.  
  
"That's a cute necklace, little girl. Can I see it? ...Oh so cute, you even have a buckle on it. Does it give you special powers?" Simon reaches forward, causing the girl to jump back.  
  
The child continues to back up further, not liking this game. A deep unfamiliar feeling of irritation rose within as the man continued to pursue her.  
  
"Little girl, why are you backing away? I won't hurt you."   
  
"….you hurt Daddy and Uncle."  
  
"That was different...what a happy accident you are." Sia back up close to a large yellow container causing it to jostle. "Oh watch out for that honey, wouldn't want you to hurt yourself on that canister. It burns if you handle it improperly."  
  
Sia dodges around the canister, running into an open doorway. The area was a simple back office full of loose paperwork and forms.  
  
"Such a perfect, pretty little thing, borne of a monster and a whore." Simon murmurs in wonder.  
  
"Don't call Momma that." A visible flash of anger crossed the six-year old's face.  
  
"Oh? But it's true. Why else would she open her legs to such a creature?" Simon said this with that ever-present cold smile, the alien look of it giving him a demonic gaze.  
  
"You are a bad man." Sia countered.   
  
"Oh?" The man softly raised an eyebrow, showing mock concern.  
  
"Daddy said so."  
  
" _Really_? From what I can see, your Daddy likes to hit people."  
  
Sia merely glared at Simon.  
  
"Didn't you know? Your parents aren't fit to raise such a precious, innocent thing." The child merely puts her hands to her ears not wanting to hear any more.  
  
Simon laughed at the childish response. "Your Momma must be a great liar too. Didn't she tell you? She killed him."  
  
At this Sia shook her head, causing her hair to flip back and forth against her face. "Nuh uh. Momma wouldn't hurt Daddy. Daddy wouldn't hurt Momma. It's all your fault Daddy hit her at all."  
  
"I can prove it, little girl. I have pictures, video of your Momma killing him. Many times too. Such an evil witch huh?"  
  
The child looks up at him wide-eyed. "Liar."  
  
"Can't blame her though, Daddy could never play nice." He leaned lower, already pushing her close to the end of the sparse office.  
  
"Liar…" The girl's eyes had narrowed in agitation, not liking being told she was wrong.  
  
"Remember those bruises he left when he showed up, little Sia? Those pale in comparison to what he did to her before.  _Such a horrible creature_. But you my dear Sia are so much better…" He smiled, knowing they were reaching the end of their little 'game'.  
  
"Liar!" Sia screams at him, the tone of her own voice alien but filled with resentment towards this man.   
  
"Why are you upset, child? That what monsters do. They eat people. Both your parents are monsters you know. Devils not fit for heaven. Don't be so sad, my parents weren't either. No human is. But you…you're an angel, an angel that has the looks of a human and the unlimited potential to rise above us all. I can give you more than those two ever could…" He tries to reach for her again, only getting a soft slap jostling the top pocket of his lab coat, full of pens and small notes.  
  
"Come now. You can be treated as one befitting your station. Instead of people staring at you…they'll fear you instead. Instead of being coddled, you can be what you always were – a true agent of divine punishment." An air of wistfulness coated his voice; the tone even to the child coming across as 'off'.  
  
"Momma is coming for me." The child calmly stated.  
  
"No, she isn't. She's a good liar instilling in you such false hope."  
  
" _Yes, she is_ ," Sia stated angrily. "Momma and Daddy wouldn't leave me."  
  
"Why not. You were a mistake. An accident. An unfortunate burden because she couldn't close her legs. You're nothing but a mistake between a lying woman and a murderous demon-"  
  
"Shut up! Liar! Liar, liar…liarliarliar!" Her voice had pitched up to a shriek, her hands back around her ears as she kept repeating how much of a liar he was.  
  
"Oh don't be like that, Sia. Come here. Let your true Father hold you."   
  
" **No!**  You liar!" She felt her back hit the large desk, her mind becoming cluttered with disordered thoughts.  
  
The playful tone to his voice dropped to a threatening growl. "If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't exist. I am your Father by proxy and your God. You are to help me create my army little girl; it is what I plan for you!" His eyes glared with both deep conviction...and madness.  
  
Sia starts to make small noises of discomfort, as she is now effectively cornered with nowhere to run.  
  
"Come here; hug your Father," he softly commands, the crazed tone to his voice gone. But his face, it doesn't fool her. She gives into the hug her bodily stiffening, then relaxing into his embrace. She absently plucks a pen from his pocket. He lifts her, placing her atop the desk before releasing her from the hug.  
  
"See, that wasn't so bad, eh my little girl?"  
  
"No, Father…it wasn't. I want to draw now." A small, happy smile fills her face, her voice soft and cheerful.  
  
"Oh, I forgot, we have a budding artist too. Shall I hand you some paper?"  
  
"No. I'm good. I want to draw now."   
  
"Strange girl, you can't draw without paper..." Simon smiles down finding her repeated request odd; she smiles back -  
  
the smile unnaturally cold; her eyes faded from blue to complete, deathly white.  
  
"Little girl - !" Ghandon could only stare at the child, the expression that filled the otherwise innocent face chilling him deeply for the first and last time.  
  
She jabs the pen through his left eye, the plastic causing the explosion of milky white. The man screams as the child with inhuman strength and speed jabs it through his skull repeatedly, inhuman snarling coming from her mouth. One thrust went straight through his forehead, the unnatural force allowing the pen to push through skull. Another reentered the empty eye socket, damaging the bone and muscle, causing blood to drip on to the child's outfit.  
  
Blood spilled everywhere as the disordered rage that welled up inside pushed her to punch more and more holes into the now convulsing man. The feeling rose within her as if something pent up was finally getting out –  _it felt so good_. The man tried to speak, life stubbornly clinging to him despite the heavy bleeding and damage. Sia merely jabbed the pen through his throat not wanting to hear his lies anymore. Within moments the man laid still. But her screaming becomes uncontrollable, herself lost in a frenzy like high.   
  
"Liarliarliarliarliarliarliarliarliarliarliarliarliarliarliarliar **LIAR!!** "  
  
Her mental high suddenly gives into circular thought plunging her into confusion. The child is thrashing wildly amongst the red blood pooling around her dress; she looks to be convulsing in a fit of pure psychosis. Her voice was a high inhuman screech, echoing across the desolate lab. Ghandon's corpse slides to the ground with a wet thud, his eye socket and half of his face literally unrecognizable. The pen was still tightly clutched in her small hand, the instrument coated in fragments of flesh, skull and brain matter.  
  
She suddenly snaps her head straight forward mid-scream; the seemly random outburst over before it even began.   
  
The girl mutters …almost obsessively, "Daddy said you were a bad, bad man. He was right. Momma will be mad, but she'll forgive me, like always." Her eyes staring straight ahead start to fade back to their normal deep blue.  
  
Blood had started to cascade onto the ground making dripping sounds in its decent. The trickle had originated from the formed pool in front of her on the table where Ghandon's head once sat before his corpse's trip to the floor.   
  
She dips a finger into the pool and carefully marks down her face.  
  
The child then begins to slowly, yet softy hum the notes of a familiar melody. Her mother would sing this to her as long as she could remember. It drifted throughout the lab, comforting the audience of one.


	8. SofD - 7 Saturn

**Saturn**    
  
 _'Don't go. I'll eat you up; I love you so.'_  
  
  
Sheva studied the small paper for a long quiet moment, the backfilled almost completely with notes written in Jill's handwriting. It wasn't full notes or any secret declarations. In fact, save for an address, it didn't mention the current situation at all. The woman could only steel herself reading the paper in its entirety.  
  
It was a Will.   
  
It listed the specifics in caring for their currently missing child. It was written as if ...as if the two did not expect to see Sia again. Sheva could only look upward, the urge to cry coming around again. Sheva just hours ago saw the love of her life die – could she deal with even more death?  
  
She pocketed the paper, not wanting to read it anymore. Besides she would deal with that when that hurdle came up. No more dying. Not on her watch.   
  
BSAA...no.  **She**  won't leave ANYONE behind.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
Jill had managed to use her knowledge of the often questionable back roads that zigzagged through the area to her advantage, dodging the pursuing BSAA agents. The looks on their faces told her enough – they would not help in finding Sia. Too blinded by anger at the deaths of their fellow operatives someone had to take the blame.  
  
 _Easier to blame the monster standing in front of you than the bigger one so far away._  But they can sit and point fingers. Her child was missing. And despite whatever laws they planned on throwing at her, she wasn't going to sit and wait till she was found experimented on...or worse...   
  
She was now at the far city limits. A small nondescript storage facility with an electronic powered gate came into view. She slipped her hand through a window, punching in the key codes. The silent gate slid open, allowing her car through. The woman drove far to the back rows, the orange colored metal pull-down gates the only scenery the bright colors popping even at this early hour. Sunrise had come and gone, the brightness slowly saturating the sky announcing the new day.  
  
But she didn't have time to admire it. She stopped the compact in front of a unit, popping the back trunk open. The blond slid out of the car, working the little-used gate open. Within were a few large dated pieces of furniture and boxes. Far to the back was a large wooden chest, a family heirloom she had inherited from her father.  
  
Popping the small lock from it, Jill lifted the lid and blanket over its contents. Surrounded by padding were various guns along with ammunition. She had removed them from her residence wanting to protect her child. But she never discarded them in the off chance she would need to take up arms.   
  
That off chance was now a reality.  
  
Rifling through it she slipped into her fatigues, her bodily still able to fit them from years past. She slipped on body armor and a harness, loading both holsters with fully loaded Berettas. She filled her pockets with ammunition and tosses a few more weapons into the car's trunk. The world had decided to turn its back completely again, but this time she was going to treat it in like kind.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
Sheva had only slowly rolled around another rough patch of land. Driving out here was never a fun experience; she always let Chris do this part of the drive hating these steep forest covered roads. The woman took in a deep breath, trying to not dwell too much on him knowing she needed to push on. There would be time to mourn-  
  
A loud bump was heard from the side of the road rocking her van. Sheva didn't see anything in driving but definitely heard something.  _Must've hit an animal. Great._  She stepped out of the van, looking towards the front of the vehicle. Nothing dead coated the vehicle, and she saw no blood or any other evidence that anything was there at all. She leaned down to check the tires – only to see a definite pair of black-clad legs standing on the other side of the van.  
  
She looked up in time to see the van tilt then adjust as said figure boarded the van from the back right side door. Sheva could only turn up her head quickly her hand on the trigger of her sidearm to lock gaze with the Tyrant. A few pieces of wood and grass stuck from his coat but otherwise, he looked unharmed. He had slid lower inside the van, curling on his side despite the gear crowding a portion of the back seat. A blanket stuck out from under a suitcase; he pulled it covering a portion of himself making it difficult if not impossible for drivers by to tell what he was.   
  
 _Jill wasn't kidding that he could be resourceful._    
  
The reconciliation of two lines of thought occurred to her. On one hand, this creature, this same creature that played with a child was guilty of killing another. On one hand, he was capable of killing and yet was now was cooperating with her without as much as a glare. Jill isn't here, but he sits quietly, expectantly in this van. Again the thought ran through Sheva's mind – was he cooperating because of Jill, or his child...or because he simply wanted or felt need to?  Aside from those possible reasons, did he inherently have self control to begin with?  
  
As much as she wanted to ponder these thoughts along with how he outran and hid for this long, she knew sitting here in the middle of this road would get him and now her caught. As much as she wanted to do the BSAA way – their way was now more muddled, more unclear.  _Who are the true good guys now?_    
  
She slid back into the van, and with a cursory nod to her passenger continued her route.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
The room reeked of death, the corpse beneath her already seizing up in the first stages of rigor mortis. Sia had gotten bored with the song and decided to explore her surroundings. She carefully leaped down from the desk, her outfit coated in dried red. Ghandon's body lay in a crumpled mess; the child merely sidestepped him, the corpse of no interest. She wiped her hands with a few stray pages off the desk, the bloody pen rolling off to the side landing on the floor with a hollow clang.  
  
She had walked out of the office, passing by the various stasis units, her shoes making wet sounds on the floor. Her blue eyes gazed up at the silent creatures trapped within, their fates permanently on display to all. She felt a sense of pity for them... _fish live in water, not people_.  
  
A small hand touched one, the palm leaving a faint red imprint onto the glass. The creature inside could only stare blankly at the child, either too weak or too far gone to respond. The child stared for a moment longer, before the hum of the lab door was heard. She dashed behind a unit filled with clouded fluid, it nearest to the door.  
  
A tall figure walked inside, his head lowered to the floor. Sia almost ran to him but stopped herself as the Tyrant scanned the room with both eyes. She held her breath, hoping he wouldn't notice. The tall monster had started to file to the back of the room stopping in the office doorway. Sia started to slowly back toward the room the other entered from. A loud angry roar trailed from the office prompting her to curl closer to the glass unit. A low hiss came from him before the Tyrant sharply turned towards the child's direction.  
  
Sia's eyes widened in surprise the girl clinging to the cloudy tube. Zeus again lifted his head into the air, his body contorted in rage.  _Father was now dead...did brother trick us in bringing this pup here to take Father away too? Damn him...!_  The Tyrant stilled himself knowing she was still here...the heavy scent of the blood of his broken Father filling the office and this intermediary room. His eyes narrowed, scanning the room. Small fragments of blood trailed to the back side of the specimen filled room.  
  
She cringed knowing he must see the footprints now. She slowly inched, circling the cloudy tube, hoping he'd not see her sliding towards the door. Her wearing small black shoes, made her slow way inching towards the lab proper...until the plastic soles still coated in a faint sheen of blood decided to squeak loudly against the white floor. A loud grunt was her only warning as the child ran through the doorway, Zeus in hot pursuit.  
  
The girl didn't dare look behind; she forced her small legs to sprint the keycard door gaping open. A loud snarl trailed her, the child feeling him gaining. She saw it – then saw her way blocked as he leaped over her blocking the way. Zeus growled the small child trapped within.   
  
 _It would be fitting to hand this child's corpse as a gift-_  
  
The slight noises from the barely working alarm system drift through the lab. He senses faint movement shaking from above ground. Zeus wasn't sure what had arrived in Father's lab but was highly tempted to investigate.   
  
Zeus begins to turn from the child, this new event more interesting. That was until the small child spoke up:  
  
"Momma says that Daddy can never die. She says that he always wakes up even when he's supposed to be dead." Her eyes were staring up at him reading indignant anger, not fear. He lowered himself to her eye level, red-ringed eyes to her blue snarling deeply at this abomination that would dare talk to him. The Tyrant snapped his teeth at the child, but Sia didn't as much flinch. The next statement that came from the child was calm, speaking in a matter-of-fact yet deadpan voice:  
  
"My Daddy will kill you."    
  
Zeus snorts, growling at the girl.   
  
Sia backed away her momentary bravery ebbing away, the monster's attention back to her. Zeus lunged at her, the child using her smaller size to duck under him. She ran through the lab door hearing him give chase again. But as she fled towards a back room Sia realized that one she was lost, and two that he stopped chasing her moments ago. As frightening as that other was, Sia could only wonder why he stopped...  
  
The Tyrant meanwhile had half halfheartedly gone after the child but stopped, mulling over her words.   
  
 _We hope he isn't._  
  
If he did in fact rise, he would inevitably come for his litter. Him and his sow.  
  
 _Now that Father isn't here to intervene...  
  
We wish to play now._  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
The human and Tyrant arrive at the once dead lab, the building small and nondescript - both knowing that there was more to it then it appeared. Sheva circled to the side looking for a side entrance. It was mentioned in Jill's note – and the BSAA had a bad feeling that they wouldn't be alone for long. The Tyrant shifted, a slight look of distance crossing his features. If Sheva didn't know better he seemed apprehensive about the place. But despite his hesitation, the monster slipped out walking stealthily towards the small hatch concealed by the dark corner it was located in.  
  
A padlock was easily ripped off, the flap groaning with disuse under the Tyrant's hand. The tall creature slipped in bodily the flap sliding closed.  
  
Sheva sat in the van, flipping her phone open. The small phone lights up, speed dialing the visible numbers.  
  
"Hey…Josh?"  
  
…  
  
Meanwhile, a massing of military fatigued troops hard started to arrive, filling the front of the building. They were heavily armed and were blocking the glass front. Sheva was grateful she parked where she had. The van was in such a corner that she could get a corner view of what was happening but was still out of sight. Nervousness despite this set in.  
  
 _…hurry up and get her so we can leave!_  
  
She ended her call quietly hoping the light did not give her position away. The call was setting things in motion elsewhere. But in front of her, something else was beginning to unfold – Jill's car heading straight towards the BSAA presence blocking the front lab entrance.    
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
The side trip to her private stash had added more time to her journey getting here, but she wasn't going to show up unprepared. As she rolled up in her compact, she saw the vans, and then the large force of men and women blocking the lab entrance. The place itself seemed unchanged, so the way in should be the same.  
  
But all of these people – she expected them to still be chasing her, but how did they know to arrive here right at the same time? Scanning them she saw that everyone was armed with not just injector guns, but weapons holding live ammunition. They all know that bullets are practically useless to him… _shoot to kill orders_. They planned on carrying them out.   
  
 _The very organization she helped to build…_  
  
She steels herself, pushing down the feeling of yet another deep-seated betrayal by the least likely of all people she expected. She would have to fight them – these people aren't zombies, or Las Plagas or Majini…these are humans ready and armed to hurt her. She had only willingly allowed the death of one human years ago in a haze of anger and thinly veiled revenge. She did not lie that she had blood on her hands.  
  
She would never forgive herself for it - but these people these that should be hunting monsters are pointing the wrong way.  _She's not a monster is she?...she thought she was beyond that._    
  
– but the world has turned its back again.  
  
 _Sometimes it's not about saving others, but yourself._  
  
She shuts her eyes closed for a second - before speeding head on towards the lab front with her car. Many dodged out of the way already opening fire on the compact. She swerved the car fishtailing it towards the doorway. A bump was felt under the car, the sound denoting that someone hadn't moved in time and was rolled over by a front tire.  
  
As soon as it skidded to a stop Jill rolled to the side door facing directly to the glass door entrance. Bullets sprayed around her causing the glass to shatter giving her an opening. She popped open her car door shielding her head from the broken front glass. BSAA milled behind her trying to cut her off.   
  
She pulled out both Berettas one in each hand shooting at her attackers. One behind her fell dead her along with a few others that had rushed the sides of the car.   
  
 _I have no choice...monsters never do._  
  
A bullet grazed her head by inches but the woman burst through closer to the elevator, the adrenaline pushing her forward. Three BSAA tried to launch a stun grenade but she dodged the attempt, her ability to shoot with either hand confusing her pursuers as to her weaker side.  
  
She went to open it but was blocked off by gunfire before a group smashed in through the broken entrance doors.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
Sia sat quietly on some storage crates. She was still lost but a feeling of calm entered her as if she knew to stay put. She absently tapped her fingers along the dusty thing stopping sharply as she faintly heard movement down the hall.  
  
Ducking behind the crate, the girl cringed, fearing it was that other again. The casting of the large shadow along the walls did not help her feel at ease. The child scrunched into a small ball hoping that if he did come for her she could dart under his legs again.   
  
The child felt a soft poke on her leg causing her to softly shriek. She mentally prepared to run again until strong arms lifted her up. Her eyes were scrunched shut until she felt a soft pat on her head. One blue eye tentatively opened to look at the familiar gaze of her father.  
  
Sia squealed hugging him tightly not wanting to let go. He tilts his head to the side, tracing the red trail on her face. She smiled at him glad he noticed.   
  
"Did I do good Daddy?"  
  
He purrs softly, the girl beaming in pride at the recognition like that of a child giving class show and tell.   
  
"Should I show Momma too?"  
  
A large finger was placed on her lips as he shook his head; she winks at him understanding that some things only a father and daughter should share.  
  
He lowered her to the ground, the little girl twining her small hand with his. Child and monster walk towards to a smaller access elevator, the same one that he used from the back entrance. She looks up at him, as he lightly pushed her inside.  
  
Sia turns, noticing he didn't follow.   
  
A look of worry crossed the child's face. Sia begins to beg him to along come with, but he shakes his head pointing for her to return back to the elevator. The child's eyes were a shade paler, but not out of anger. They read with a knowing look...it would be awhile before she would see him again. She waved at the Tyrant as the elevator door slowly shut closed separating parent from child.  
  
Nemesis turns to go see if his mate had arrived yet - and to settle things.   
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
The small hatch slid open; the messy curly hair of Sia appeared emerging from the entrance – alone.  _He would just send her out alone? He must have his reasons._  
  
The crack of more gunshots rock the 'small' lab causing the BSAA to instinctively twitch. She despite this runs out of the van catching the child in her arms.  
  
"Auntie!" Sia hugs Sheva in a tight hug, happiness – as well as blood coating her features.  
  
 _Seems this poor thing got caught in the crossfire._  
  
"Did that bad man hurt you, honey?"   
  
The child says at first says nothing – then leans into Sheva's arms whispering as if it was a deep secret, "The bad man hurt my family. So he was punished."  _A strange answer…but fair enough._  The woman could only assume the monster or Jill dealt with him. She hoped he suffered immensely for what he did. So many innocent people dead…  
  
The child begins to wiggle in Sheva's arms. "Auntie, I want to go home. We should get Momma and Daddy -"    
  
"No girly. They'll be back, just sit tight, okay?"  
  
The child pouts but holds still.  
  
Loud shooting was heard throughout the place, the blond apparently teaching the current BSAA operatives dog fighting 101. Sheva wanted to go help her, the numbers stacked high against her. But she promised to keep this child safe.  _No matter what._  
  
The cocking of a gun's trigger was heard behind Sheva's head, the glaring eyes of Trent staring down the small child.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
She fought a slow guerrilla war with the BSAA, the troops trying to prevent her from leaving the first floor. She had stolen some ammo from a dead agent by her side, her tenacity and their numbers keeping both at a standstill. She is holding a small item in her hands, waiting for the right moment to use it.  
  
Jill in waiting them out comes to a personal conclusion…he won't die without her hand in it. He won't attack humans without her hand in it. He despite the silence goes above and beyond what he is required to do…he would kill for that child. He would kill for her. As much as it bothered her...  
  
 _Monsters shouldn't care._  
  
Memories of that botched time in the desert, her covering for him, her almost irrational defense of him…the fact that she even kept the child they both made...flooded her thoughts.  
  
 _Can I be capable of that? Or rather - do I want to?_  
  
With that last train of thought, she tosses the flash grenade at the nearest group the bright lighting blinding them. She slams a pale hand onto the elevator buttons causing it to slide open. Jill rolls to the back corner facing the internal keypad. Pressing the emergency button causes the thick metal to close behind her but not before a rain of bullets fire through the quickly closing gap.   
  
The small elevator flooded red inside as it made its slow descent. She had by sheer memory caused it to go into lock mode, a defense mechanism for employees in case they were trying to out run any monstrosities. Jill only hoped that at least kept the BSAA at bay.   
  
The elevator landed on the second floor, then third. Familiarity greeted her; the small storage room she almost died in years previous still smelt as bad as it did then. Save for no corpses, it was just as disheveled as before. Walking around the room without any attackers actually gave her a chance to look along its dingy walls. She almost walked back out before seeing tracks of faint red around some indistinguishable items. A barely visible door with a combination keypad and reader sat along the west wall it without the red smudges on the floor would been nearly invisible.   
  
She rifled through her pockets, finding the old and torn key card. She swiped it causing the small lights upon the reader to light up green. Jill slipped into the lab the smell of recent death hitting her as soon as the doors slid open. Aside from the smell, her eyes were bombarded with blinding white.  
  
A small-scale lab was found here full of large oversized stretchers. The metal trays were oversized way too large for merely a human… Jill walked past this heading down halls as well as following the increasingly thicker trail of blood in the shape of a small child's shoes.   
  
Jill's heart lurched as she ran faster hoping, praying this was not Sia's blood.  
  
She stopped as she got to the office. Crumpled onto the floor was the body of an older man, a major side of his face indistinguishable. She would've enjoyed taking this sick bastard out herself, but considering what she little knew of his interaction with the Tyrant he got what he deserved. But more worrying was Sia not being here.   
  
 _If she's not here, then where is she?_  
  
The glow of a working laptop to the side of the large and bloodstained desk caught Jill's eye.  _This is probably what Sheva and Josh needs…_ she muses as she pulls out Chris' cell out of her pocket. The small note Sheva had left onto the phone told her what she needed to do.  
  
She rifles through the myriad files onto the curiously unlocked computer. Jill could only surmise that he was recently accessing it or that he didn't expect others to be down here with him to warrant locking it. Scanning the desktop she noted various files and dates.  
  
'NEMESIS Project' was the prominent folder found. But unlike the one in the lab previous, this one was filled with actual files; many of them dated as far back as 1995 – and then recent ones: two additional folders entitled 'NE-alpha' and 'ZEUS'.   
  
 _Zeus?_  
  
Jill opened the later folder it filled with various data and samples; pictures of a comatose Tyrant laid onto an extra large stretcher with a myriad of tubes crisscrossing its body. It lay nude, the purple droplets of blood coating the floor the tale tale sign of recent invasive surgery present. She almost wondered if the being in the pictures was the same one now under chase by the BSAA until the undamaged scalp – and the horrific scarring of castration met her vision. This in itself she found odd.   
  
 _Why?_  She didn't get the feeling that they made them for such a purpose; seemed like an unnecessary sort of procedure. She opened the accompanying file.  
  
 _Zeus Resuscitation Notes  
  
So many years of trial and error. So many years of fixing my lesser past associates' mistakes. After landing upon the lucky find of my crowning achievement and failure, Nemesis, I found it high time to try and recover his sibling. He, who I had over time dubbed 'Zeus', had been a difficult go of things. Unlike Units 1 and 4, he was relatively undamaged save for his mental shut down. The staff scoffed at me at the time when I surmised that mental distress caused the breakdown. But that's here nor there.   
  
Considering they damaged him in their 'preventative' procedures, I could not use testosterone to bolster his aggression like his 'older sibling'. So I had to be a bit more creative. Modifications to the parasitic brain caused a decent bolster in aggression. After witnessing his brother's capacity to form attachments, the chip placed inside Zeus was to limit his range of emotions – through even despite this is prone to huge outbursts. These modifications caused a curious discoloration to his eyes, but nothing that seemed to interfere with vision.  
  
Despite sharing similar abilities, Zeus is not truly classifiable as a Nemesi anymore – a few flaws have emerged that will have to be smoothed out. In upping his aggression output the NE-alpha parasite within had to be severely weakened limiting Zeus' original intelligence slightly. This also caused marked lessening in regenerative abilities; making him unlike Nemesis susceptible to lethal damage. Zeus though makes up for this in brutal efficiency and power bolstering improved upon strength and marked damage output well above and beyond his predecessor.   
  
The awakening process went well; he listens to given commands and so far the chip has kept him in line. Had to use more Invidia then normal – it seems that Zeus burns through it even faster than Nemesis; if it takes at all. Will field test against his sibling; both units are rather remarkable and once entanglements with the BSAA are settled will do well with my future plans.   
  
S. Ghandon._  
  
...  
  
Jill closed the file, uploading it through the cell. She moved back over to the first file, curiously dated around 2005-6. Despite her original purpose for reading it gone, she scanned over the contents, full of notes, photos, and video clips.  
  
The NE-alpha folder had files detailing the various stages of the NE-alpha parasite and the adaptations it took in an immune host including regenerative properties if it was periodically reintroduced -  
  
 _Wait.  
  
...are they referring to…?_  
  
The files had TriCell letterhead; each one addressed to an E. Gionne. Each one talked of extraction samples...and payment schedules. Seemed Ms. Gionne in her company's behalf needed more in-depth research on the NE-alpha samples they harvested from  
  
 _...me._  
  
Who better to analyze them than the man who worked with the parasite first? Jill could only grit her teeth, the memory – the memories of that haughty woman along with her true master that played them all like puppets on a string, smiling down at her as she was meat on a tray. She held her hand to her chest, the ghost of what sat there still visible with the faint puncture marks that dotted there.   
  
So TriCell paid off his bills...and...  
  
...it seemed he was returning the favor to the BSAA. Receipts; a spreadsheet file filled with names, some familiar …all on the BSAA payroll. Dates that went as far back as 2009 when the Cali BSAA was being established. He had been paying off various ranked members to keep his trading operation under wraps. It made her ill knowing that the very people she fought the good fight for; the same said ones that are currently hunting her were no better than those they swore to capture.  
  
As much rising anger this folder gave her, Jill couldn't stop her curious eyes from lingering over the video files. She opened one named 'May 2010'.  
  
A grainy camera, reflecting the blinding white lab that she passed through earlier; in fact, it had to be the lab seen in the Zeus pictures. But this video had the familiar Tyrant instead; his trench top was in tatters, one side completely ripped, it hanging loosely by threads. Aside from the clothing damage, he looked relatively unscathed…aside from the almost dazed look that coated his features.  
  
He moved sluggishly, the Tyrant's body strapped tightly against the metal stretcher. His head lulled as if he was in a drugged out haze, his tongue grey lying slack against his teeth. A tray holding various implements and a small slender piece of metal sat beside the stretcher holding him. A gold chip …the same one he gave to her in the bathroom. A lanky man that had to be Ghandon walked towards him, scalpel in hand.  
  
 _But...he's awake...?_  
  
The implement gleamed, the surgically sharp scalpel hovering close to the Tyrant's stitched scalp. Jill felt her throat close in cold anxiety the blade so close... _straps that held her to the chair as a heavily accented voice remarked on her good health. A sharp blade digging holes through her chest – the 'pilot holes' for the P30._  The monster could only druggedly twist his head before straps were tightened around his head preventing him from flinching away. His eye permanently blank and yet the brow furling showing clearly his agitation. The sounds of weak kicking against the metal was heard, his feet lifting off the table,  _her hands and teeth clenched as yet another hole was pierced through her flesh. She had to be awake_  to make sure cranial placement was correct.  
  
One staple, then two, then more were pulled open,  _the blood dripping down the tray pooling while uncaring eyes bored down onto her. The small tubules of the P30 was pushed through_  the open flap pressing through his parasitic brain. He was screaming in so much pain  
  
Pain neither of them should have never endured much less been  _awake_  for.  
  
Jill stopped the video, hot tears running down her pale face. She couldn't watch anymore.  
  
For a moment she held her herself trying to not vomit at the display, herself bodily shaking. She was well acquainted with cruelty. But to see it mirrored right back...  
  
Jill shakily starts to type through Chris' phone. The text  ***files uploaded***  scrolled across the cell's screen. She leaned her head down, the image of him being no more powerful than her,  _suffering_ ; that for all was expected of him he never had 'control', not really. But did she either? Even when the BSAA placed the collar on him, they would've never gone that far, would they?  
  
She saw a subfolder: Raccoon footage. Within was a file named 'Tra Tra'...She debated on bothering with it - what could a video with such an odd title contain? It had neither a date nor a direct reference to the Tyrant but it was definitely a video involving him somehow. She began to move the mouse over to click it open but a sudden movement caught Jill's attention.  
  
…  
  
Zeus smells her, watching from a hidden part of the larger containment room, the female touching Father's desk.  _How could brother want this frail thing?_  The child as much as he despised it Zeus could not help but be a bit impressed –  _at least brother did not make a weakling_. But a part of Zeus knew that killing the child yes would enrage him…but killing his mate…   
  
 _Our brother did not deserve such niceties._  
  
Besides, the female would make just as effective bait – as wherever she is, he is.  
  
 _And we so want that._


	9. SofD - 8 S.T.A.R.S.

**S.T.A.R.S.**  
  
 _'Don't give me that. I can see how it is. The king has favorites. That's really cute.'_  
  
  
The hard click of metal sounded behind Sheva along with the pressing of cold steel along the back of her head. The taller man features once considered youthful if not boyish, now wore the face of a scowling, bitter man. The pure hate that his eyes held were pointedly directed towards the scared 6-year-old in front of them.  
  
"Do you think pointing that behind me is going to stop me from leaving?"   
  
"Did you think we would've have not followed you, or rather Chris' cell phone tracer?"  
  
Sheva internally winced.  _Should've expected that._  "I know you have every reason to hunt them down, but leave this child out of it."   
  
"'Leave the child out of it'…are you serious Sheva? This is a war, war doesn't discriminate. In fact, she's more of a danger because she looks like us."    
  
"Danger to whom? If anything you are more the threat, what with all the questionable things your hands have been in."  
  
"With what proof. All I hear is hearsay-"  
  
"Well, there are these things called bank statements, Trent. Things like that can be traced once people know what words to look for, eh Tra Tra?"  
  
"Heh. I don't know where you're getting your information; I think you're just talking out of your ass Sheva." Despite this, Sheva could see the small makings of concern cross his face.  
  
"I have proof of how shameless you are. If you want your job, leave us alone."  
  
"If you do rat me out… so what? Everyone is getting paid from someone. It's has been the BSAA way from day one. At least I'm doing it for the greater good. Get rid of me, more will just take my place." Trent shifts closer to her, making her even more uncomfortable, the gun pressing painfully against her head.   
  
"You think it's just about that old man? Or just  _me_  involved in this? For some it's money. For some it's power. And for those like me, it's fixing the weakness found in this world. People will never stop B.O.W. trading. People will always make better monsters as long as money and power is needed and wanted.  
  
"Fighting a few only causes many more to show up filling the gaps. But working with them, letting a few big fish swim-"  
  
"It's a deal with devils, Trent!"  
  
"So. It's not like the BSAA was above working with devils before.  _In fact, some of us aren't above fucking them._ "  
  
Sheva glares up in anger; the man would say such things in front of this child!  
  
"They pay; we turn a blind eye. They tell us intel on their competition, we close them down. We wipe some monsters off the map – they keep working. They stay out of certain areas, we see less of us and civilians put into body bags. It's like the rules between cops and street whores; this circle keeps everyone fed."  
  
"But what of  _them_! Those monsters, they will never come to task!"  
  
"That's the choice of choosing a lesser evil; let the world that demands absolute justice care."  
  
"…that isn't what we stand for! We are to help …!" Sheva could not believe the absolute disregard she was hearing. Seems the monsters have won, have been ruling the world while everyone slept soundly in their beds oblivious.  
  
"Sheva, the BSAA was never fully for 'the world'. We wear the tag of  _B.O.W. world police_  but even as you can attest from years ago this organization was never clean!"  
  
"TriCell is long dead and buried. That situation in Africa only made us stronger!"  
  
Trent sighed in exasperation. "Is that what the higher-ups feed you? You and Redfield have been wearing blinders for years... Too busy playing children's games with  _that_  over there not seeing how things really are! None of us have clean hands here, but we all can agree that in the end we are doing more good in the end – containing what is undestroyable."  
  
He pulls Sheva close, leaning down to whisper in her ear.   
  
"At least when I and many others like me go to bed at night I can sleep knowing I'm making an actual difference…Instead of watching men and women die we have a hell's chance of containing the market, of lowering threats… Sheva. This world isn't altruistic or nice. Sometimes you have to ride the middle and hope."  
  
"That middle road is too complacent…it still results in death in the end." She tried to jerk away from him, the man holding her tight against him.  
  
"No. That  _beast_  results in death. That disgusting murderous bastard is your true evil. At least humans can reason, humans can pity; it cannot. You look down at me for doing the right thing; I…can't fathom what right is there in catering to  _that_. I turn my eye away from many things, but to a B.O.W. that has consistently caused suffering in its wake I cannot. Despite my dirty hands I know to shoot a dirty monster when I see one – and  _that_  little shit is one."  
  
Sheva struggles harder now, hearing the cold tinge to his voice. He didn't just come here to talk bioterrorism politics. He was angry, bitter and still dealing with the loss of family. She understood that as she had lost her own years ago – but she accepted that they were lost to things outside of their control. Trent had not reached that conclusion. And now years later he plans to make everyone remotely involved to pay for it.  
  
Sia had stood there, her eyes wide in shock; hearing such things, that bad people don't get punished…that Daddy fell into that group…deep rage, then…confusion read across her eyes. Trent forced Sheva's head toward the child his voice rising in barely contained emotion.  
  
"Look at her Sheva, look at all that blood on her! Unless she was literally covered with it in a bathtub, that little demon popped someone. Didn't ya, you little shit…!"  
  
"Trent no! She…she's just a child!"  
  
"Just a child….? Just. A. Child. JUST A CHILD!? No!! My dead boy was 'just a child'! My dead boy that never hurt a damn thing in his life was 'just a child'! This…this fucking demon in front of me is no such thing. She is unholy and shouldn't-"  
  
"But you get paid off by the very people who made her!" The woman yelled. She could feel the rage radiating off the man. Sheva knew what misplaced rage and despair could do to a person. She saw it in Chris in that hell ride through Africa; saw it even in her own eyes when she reflected on the family she would never get back.   
  
And the longer they stood in this standoff the uglier that anger would become.   
  
Trent broke her internal thoughts, with a voice so cold, so distant and unlike the man that had served under Chris. Not a voice draped in power, but broken, strained. "She and that  _thing_  are just faulty weaponry. I'm only…I'm only removing what's obviously broken-"  
  
"Sia run!" The child in her confusion froze now that she was being directly spoken to. Sheva reaches up quickly, twisting Trent's arm forcing the gun upward and away. Trent not expecting this slams back against Sheva, causing her to shift backward almost falling over.  
  
"Let me fucking go!" They struggle for control of the gun, the athletic woman shouldering the man trying to loosen his hold on the weapon. His hand almost let it completely go – before Trent knees her in the back.  
  
Sheva falls to the ground first, receiving a kick to her side. She tried to recover but feels herself being yanked up roughly by the ponytail, the cold metal of the gun striking her face. Blood trickled down her mouth her lip cut open and swollen. Sheva collapses to the ground as another hard blow succeeded in knocking her unconscious.   
  
He continues to strike her bodily in vicious anger, it spilling over into hard strikes leaving numerous welts on the prone and unconscious woman. Trent's mind went on autopilot, his misplaced hatred spilling out of control as he landed more and more strikes against her.   
  
He kept lashing out, his vision blurring in the extreme emotion that he had contained for over 17 years - until a sharp bite was felt in his right calf. The distraught commander turns seeing the angry blue eyes of Sia staring up at him. Trent raised, his uniform ruffled and bloody the look on his face reflecting the mental break taking place within. The child slowly backed away, the off-kilter gaze scaring her.  
  
He slowly walked towards her, his eyes narrowed in disgust.   
  
"You…you are a sick mistake. You think I can't tell? You glare just like him; so fucking empty you creepy monster! You probably enjoyed killing whoever you murdered, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU."  
  
Sia could only shrink in fear, not understanding why he was so angry at her. "Stop backing from me you little shit!" Trent screams grabbing her with one hand. His hand was shaking; the man lost focusing everything onto the small child now crying from the painful squeezing of her shoulder.  
  
"Mister, you're hurting me!"  
  
"Shut up! Don't pretend you are an innocent child!" Trent backhands Sia, the girl lurching in his grip. "You think I can't see through your disguise? You think I'm fooled?!" He throws the child to the ground, again slapping her hard against the face. "My son said it hurt too but he isn't here is he? You take your damn beating, you mistake! Or kill me; come on I know how you monsters do." Again and again, he struck the child, enjoying her sounds of suffering, the memories of his dying son spurning him on to further brutality.  
  
"Oh, what's this?" Trent sees the small chain that hung around the child's neck. "Monsters keeping mementos – it's unfair you get to be reminded of your  _family_. My son had nothing, nothing but death to keep him company." He rips the chain off flinging it and the piece of leather to the side landing by Sheva, still unconscious and bleeding from the head.  
  
"It's funny; you look just like that bitch too. I always wanted to put her in her place. Good enough, eh?" He grips the child's face staring at the deep red and black bruises popping from her skin…and then seeing them start to heal.   
  
"What the hell is this? You heal. You monsters  _heal_?" He raises his sidearm to Sia's face, placing it in the middle of her bruised forehead.   
  
"What can I expect; your 'Daddy' is just like you, a miserable mistake. All of you fucking monsters deserve to die…"  Sia squirms, her small body through healing still in pain. The man above her had eyes wild and glazed. It was if he wasn't really there. His voice once full of just anger had dropped into an almost distant, frightening tone.  
  
He leaned down, the gun still positioned on her forehead. Trent's voice was barely an audible whisper: "Someone here must have a measure of sanity to do the right thing.  
  
Someone who truly wants to save the world.   
  
Someone who isn't afraid.  
  
…besides I can be just like Daddy, eh you little monster?" The child could only look up and whimper as the sound of the trigger being pulled filled her ears.  
  
The little girl screamed before a shot rang out.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
This frail thing…is shifting around now…body language showing she's aware she isn't alone now. The female was never alone. Always watched the moment she slipped onto the third floor. Her looks of concern amused Zeus. Such a boring token this female is. Brother ran at full speed for that pup; even came forth and took her – the fool didn't see he was being watched either.  _He never ran for us. He just sat in a corner while we did all the running and screaming!_  
  
Have being around these weak things indeed broke him? Or is this merely a result of getting what he wanted? We never got what we wanted; we never got to keep what we wanted. He never had to lose anything, just sit and be chosen over all of us! Why did Father, why did our Gods choose him over us? We were loyal too. Even more so now.   
  
The Gods must have thought so as they let him stay the same, they let him hunt; they let the rest of us die. Brother just sat away from us as if he was better. Sitting there like a weak dog!   
  
We wanted to kill him in his sleep. Why keep him around. Maybe Father needed to do that to us. Maybe it made us better. Why else is brother so broken, so stubborn? Father tried to fix him and still wrong! Our oldest was broken, why else did he flee. But unlike the oldest, brother is still here. Defying everything we stand for.  
  
But he never lost anything…maybe that's why brother is so wrong. He never had to sacrifice anything. Father showed us pictures, video of him and that female. Father was so angry. We could see it in his eyes. Brother seems so protective of her, so- he would do  _that_  with her?   
  
What value is there in watching over something so frail?   
  
Father was so angry, so ...  _Father, did you ever get angry at us for our failings? Did Father feel anything for us too?_  Father didn't want us to simply 'solve' the problem with brother. No, Father had to 'fix' him; he didn't have to with us. We stood by Father's side; we did what we were told. Father still wanted him… now Father is dead.   
  
Maybe this was meant to be. Expecting a human to solve such problems is too much. They are all frail anyway. Especially this female. Frail with tears in her eyes.  _Sickening_.  
  
…Father was just as frail.  
  
Brother never had to lose anything…always given the best. Brother is surrounded with toys- destroying them will be so much fun.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
The sound of metal leaving the gun's chamber was heard, the bullet hitting the soft dirt above the child's head. Trent's whole form was shifted upwards the smoking weapon twisted towards the side.  
  
…he misaimed due to Sheva grabbing his leg, her mind teetering back into lucidity.   
  
She grabs him in a sharp jerk, causing the girl to break free from his hold. Her fingers press into his bruised calf, the deep imprint of Sia's teeth adding raised indentations to the skin. A fist connected with her face en route, threatening to put the woman under again. Sheva fights through it returning the attack with a twist to the man's leg, a deep snap ringing through the air.  
  
Trent screamed out, the pain ringing high in his voice. The gun still stayed in his hand but he was unable to aim with Sheva pulling him back. Sia had come to her senses pinning herself against the van. Her face was a mix of fear, pain, and confusion, the man still glaring daggers at her.  
  
"GET OFF OF ME! She needs to be put down Sheva! Look at her, the little monster is just laughing at us…LOOK!" Hysteria had slipped into his voice, his face reading desperation and violence. "She's…she a demon masquerading as one of us…she'll kill us all! You want to save the world then help me kill this monster!"   
  
Sheva had in his ranting pulled him long ago by his broken leg to herself, pinning him down to the ground. Her voice came out a roar, angry at not just the violence he visited upon her, but the sheer brutality lashed onto the child.   
  
"You are the monster here! You cry over your lost child?! You think you're the only one who has lost someone? You took the man I loved away! You let all those people die because you are too busy playing God instead of standing for what is on your damn uniform! But you are too damn pathetic to take it up with the monster that DID kill him! As I see things you are no damn better, Trent!?" She wanted to yell sense into him, wanted him to see this wasn't the way.  
  
But Trent still had fight left in him. The two still struggled for the gun, him even harder despite the broken leg. Their arms are around each other, the woman using all of her strength to force him to lower it. It sunk lower and lower until the metal was hidden between the two bodies struggling in the dirt. They jerk and turn, both panting and moving slowly due to their wounds.   
  
The muffled sound of a shot rang out between them punctuated by Sia's terrified shrieking. The trickle of blood coated the ground along the path their bodies took in their struggle. Trent held his side, the entry of the bullet causing the entire area to bleed red along his uniform. Sheva now held the gun, the piece warm in her hands.   
  
"You...you would attack me over  _that_?" The wheezing tone to his voice denoted the immense pain he felt radiating from his left. His hand was already coated in warm liquid, the injury enough to cause heavy bleeding. "…you're just as dead as Jill. You think the others are going to side with you?"  
  
"You tried to kill a child. A six-year-old child, Trent!"  
  
"What attack are you talking about? That little thing heals, see?" Looking towards Sia, the bruises that Trent had left were already fading, the faint outlines of the evidence that he had harmed her at all disappearing.   
  
"If anything I have proof you were trying to kill me. Attacking me is cause for lengthy jail time, Sheva. All for that little beast; …should be caged, after all, that little monster did attack me."  
  
Internally Sheva cursed that now Sia's 'traits' decided to work in full.   
  
"But I'll just chalk it up to friendly fire…unless you help. Put that  _thing_  down… I wasn't lying; I'm certain that demon killed someone. Could you live with yourself if you let her free? What if she snaps and kills someone else, or attacks you?"   
  
Sheva shook her head, even trying to envision Sia attacking anyone a horrible thought. But now that Trent brought it up…the blood splatter, the density of it implied that she was up close on someone or something. It was the kind of splatter that only someone close enough to give the killing blow would have.   
  
 _'The bad man hurt my family. So he was punished.'_  
  
Her mind wanted to block that thought out. Wanted to tell herself that it wasn't possible. The gun sat in her hands as she looked at Sia from the corner of the eye. The child sat passive, her hand clutching the broken necklace Trent had ripped from her in small trembling hands.  
  
"It's all for the greater good, Sheva."   
  
She saw the gleam in Sia's eyes from when this confrontation began; the murderous rage that barely appeared there…it wasn't the first time she caught it. Whenever people said things she didn't agree with, whenever something threatened her. It was something they all looked away from. Sheva was sure Jill pretended it wasn't ever there.  
  
But knowing that look, did she indeed kill someone? And if so, could a child with such potential for violence be allowed to live?   
  
"No one will know nor question it, Sheva."  
  
 _Can I do this to Jill?_  
  
"Do the right thing and end this here. End it for the people lost." Trent whispered. Sheva straightened her back, aching in pain. She raised her gun.   
  
"I do this not for them, Trent. I do this only out of faith, hope, and love…."   
  
"Sheva…?" He asks that statement catching him off guard. "Sheva! What are…what are you doing?! What the hell, Sheva -!"   
  
A third shot rings through the air, the three witnesses still breathing after it's ejection. The gun was pointed upward, the smoke denoting its recent usage.   
  
 _No, I made a promise._  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
The hairs on the back of Jill's neck rose; she rose pushing the dark feelings down needing to focus. She felt more than saw; eyes were watching her but from where she couldn't tell. Both Berettas were out, one aimed behind her and the other to her side. The floor beneath her was slick with blood causing her to mind her footing avoiding stepping in the large puddle.  
  
She slowly reached the doorway of the room full of stasis units. The woman hovered halfway, leaning into the room full of specimens enclosed in glass. Along the east wall was nothing but almost wall to ceiling glass. The area beyond it looked dark, no lighting to tell if there was anything of importance inside. At the far end of this glass wall section was a panel door that stood out starkly against the glass. The worn sign 'Living Quarters' hung askew from the metal door. A rickety lift elevator could be barely seen through the glass against said door; implying that the living portion of said area was floors down.  
  
The sense that she was being watched grew causing her to back inside. Whatever that was watching her was out there, trapping her in the office.  
  
She huddled far to the back wall, enough to give her space if whomever (or whatever) was still watching, but not so flush as to trap herself. She learned quickly years ago you never have yourself trapped in a corner. Then again this whole office could be an over glorified corner at this rate. Sans the desk, it was a dust-covered box-shaped trap.  
  
 _Wait…wasn't dust supposedly a major component of Invidia?_    
  
It was a random idea; it was an article she read vaguely years ago. It theorized that the stifling properties of household dust were in large enough amounts able to resemble the weaker effects of Invidia, namely disorientation (without the narcoleptic properties it was known for). Jill at the time thought the article bunk; no more accurate than a National Enquirer rag.  
  
But at this point, anything and everything is an option. Whatever is stalking her is purposely staying out of sight…the Tyrant wouldn't have a need to do this with her. Jill grabbed old papers from around the room, using her shoes to kick up the layers of the unhygienic dust into the air. The woman had to cover her mouth for a moment before raising back up her guns, the dust causing her eyes to burn.  
  
As she kept shifting items around to wick up more dust, a small movement caught her attention. Jill looked out of the corner of her eye…nothing.  _Just a room full of dust and blood clogging the air._  Still, her guns were at the ready. Her blond hair stuck to her face her breathing the only sound filing the room.  
  
Another sound joined hers; the small clink of metal falling against the floor.   
  
It drew her attention to a small gold item laying flat on the floor a few feet away. She leans down to examine it…a small microchip barely the size of a child's fingernail. As she went to fully pick it up, something soft and feather-light grazed her face. The woman saw a large pair of shoes…no boots standing in front of her.  
  
She could only look up at the familiar yet unfamiliar face of her present company. Jill saw him lick across his teeth in glee, the glare of his red-rimmed irises boring into her before feeling tentacles tightly coil around her outstretched arms, then flinging her bodily into the wall of the dust-filled office.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
Nemesis returns inside, the smells of dust and gunfire filling the top half of the building. He disregarded it and ventured back downward, preparing to access the third floor. Well the monster tried to as the shaft he rode up had that floor's access locked. He hadn't noticed this limitation in his first trip down – but he was sure he needed to go down further.   
  
The second floor had him walking past the same crates he found the little one at; surely she came from down there. As he walked along the smaller access hallways, the dust seemed to have increased tenfold the amount becoming distracting to the Tyrant. The vents seemed to swim with visible clouds of it. But through the creeping disorientation he felt, a fresher, familiar smell started to surface. Along with that was faint sounds barely phasing through the heavily reinforced thick concrete walls.   
  
Then a third, more alarming scent flooded his senses, the same trigger that made him return from destroying those others years ago. Her blood.   
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
Zeus trails one of the two usable fingers on his left hand along the cold blood that coated Father's table. The gun in her left had in her flight slipped out of her hand, the weapon skittering along the floor with a metallic clang to a far side of the office.  
  
The female had landed with a loud thud against the opposite side of the desk, the trip causing a gash on her head. She barely could move as the blow caused white to bleed into her senses, the pain blanking her out momentarily.   
  
As the blond scrambled to get up and away, she felt strong hands yank her up by her ponytail. Jill could feel her hair at the root threatening to separate from her scalp. She reached up to try and pry the tight hand off, only to feel wall greet her back. A handshaking from disorientation raised up with her other gun, only to feel her hand slammed hard against the wall, her hands opening from the white-hot pain that alighted her fingers. Jill hadn't realized she had even dropped the gun, until the clank of metal hitting the ground was heard, noisily within the seemingly too small office.  
  
He drags the bloodied fingers along the wall, making a long red streak to her side. Tentacles flick exposed from under his battle suit, the glare of pure hate alight in Zeus' red-rimmed eyes. He leaned against her snarling deeply, wanting to see this female whimper, to see her prove him right… _such a weak thing_.  
  
But…she despite the ratcheting pain being pinned by the hair or being bodily slammed against the wall, her eyes read no fear. They dotted in a faint glimmer of tears but no fear, not even a flinch. This irritates him.  _This human isn't backing down…_  
  
He wishes to destroy her utterly – how could his elder even tolerate this disrespect? What does he gain from this repulsive, inferior bitch? Zeus leans closer, feeling her breathing, fast yet labored.  _What does he see?!_   He lets her hair go, only to grab her by the throat. The Tyrant leans flush against her now, his eyes narrowed at this frail toy.   
  
He sharply turns her neck to the side, careful to not snap it. Jill looked ahead, her free hand trying to reach her pocket knife. Her try at arming herself was short lived as tentacles tightened around her arms and legs, pinning her limbs back. She was now completely at this B.O.W.'s mercy, her body shrinking away from him bodily pressing against her.  
  
She tried to move away despite the tentacles, but each time felt the hand on her neck squeeze harder. Spots started to dot her vision, the slow cutting off of air making her feel lightheaded. As she struggled, she felt breath against her neck, the gesture causing her blood to run cold.  
  
Zeus studied her in full, her eyes squeezing shut.  _Isn't this what brother does to her? Why is she not reacting the same?_  His other hand started to slide up her clothed leg leaving a trail of blood along it in its path. Her teeth grit in displeasure; not the reaction Zeus was expecting at all.  
  
The hand on her neck closed harder, the irritated growl of her captor vibrating against her neck. The dots in her eyes became full out red, her breathing sharply cutting off causing her to feel her consciousness slipping away. The hand on her neck was deliberately pressing in now…  
  
A similar hand had done this before.  
  
The same gloved hand that had in apology clutched her in comfort.  
  
She was going to pass out; what is he doing…  
  
 _…don't touch me! You're not him!_  
  
The statement came out in a weak hiss, her eyes still shut tightly closed.   
  
Zeus smells this new scent she gave off, seeing the faint tear trailing down her face. He makes a sound akin to a laugh, tracing the fluid down her cheek in mockery.   
  
Jill's eye's snap open, staring directly at Zeus; despite the almost spitting image…this monster is just a pale copy. A copy of the original that is deep down angering her more than anything – a copy that has no right to touch her.  
  
Jill spits in his face.  
  
She found her self flung aside again, the loud roar from him denoting his rage at the woman. Jill landed on top of a few spare chairs heaped in a corner, the fall bruising her already taxed side.  
  
 _Bitch_. Not only is she weak, but brother places  _this thing_  above  _him? His own family?_  No human is at their level…he will enjoy ripping her apart. Zeus raises his hand, a lengthy tentacle extending from his palm.  _She will be destroyed as all her kind is due_.  
  
As he approached the ailing human, dust started to appear between them. The amount grew and grew, the dust starting to flood around them. Both looked up, seeing growing indentations along the ceiling with cracks and fractures forming along a small area. Zeus could only growl before the ceiling came crashing down between them.  
  
A low hiss was heard across from Jill before a second dark moving figure was seen through the shifted dust knocking Zeus backward into the next room. She could only squint, the sound of crashing heard in the next room. Finding her dropped weapons she runs inside to follow.  
  
Zeus didn't expect the full-on tackle into the next room, but the full-on fury in his brother's face told him everything. The younger Tyrant merely answered back by catching Nemesis in a choke hold, smashing him into an empty glass stasis unit. The force of the slam caused purple to stain along it, cracks framing where the other landed.   
  
Spots flitted into Nemesis' vision; limited by one side as he was, he noticed two things.  
  
One, two of the tanks full of clouded water contained two familiar bodies – the bullet-ridden corpses of his other two brothers. The simple examination caught him off guard before he was slammed back into the glass container. Fluid had started to leak out of it like a child had taken a hammer to a fish tank.  
  
Secondly was the fact that the other had only two fingers in his left hand.   
  
 _I damaged those long ago…Can't brother heal?_  
  
As he was about to be slammed into the container again, he ducked, pulling Zeus down with him. He shot out two tentacles, wrapping them around Zeus the tendrils lifting him bodily off the floor. With pure strength, Nemesis punted Zeus into the same glass, pushing the other Tyrant's face through the glass cylinder.   
  
The younger Tyrant pulled himself out of the glass and fluid hazard, tentacles out and fluid slick. Glass fragments coated in purple and water scatted along the floor. As he went to retaliate, gunshots were heard then felt along his side. Shots slammed into his face as well as his side causing fraying along portions of his battle suit. But unlike Nemesis, Zeus stood in the path of the gunfire snapping at the female now standing by his brother's side.  
  
His eyes narrowed, agitated by her being alive as well as interrupting. As Zeus lunged towards her, tentacles wrap around his neck, his brother letting out a snort.  _He would use this female as a distraction! We'll show you not to share such frail toys!_  
  
Zeus snaps his head back, bodily pulling the other towards him using Nemesis' own tentacles against him. The older prepares to leap onto Zeus, before finding himself being bodily thrown out of the room into the stark white lab operating area his leather trench helping him skate bodily along the once pristine white floors.  
  
Nemesis catches the side of a stained metal stretcher stopping his floor-length slide; flinging it back in retaliation towards the other Tyrant charging at him. But the other with cat-like grace leaps over it, then mid-movement grabs it from behind. Zeus grabs it and slams Nemesis full on with the furniture, it denting with impact.   
  
The other retaliates by catching hold of the quickly warping stretcher, bringing it back down onto Zeus by the cascading wheels slamming into his head. The monster then let the metal go, barely moving in time as a tentacle pierced through it, aiming for Nemesis' head but catching him in the chest.   
  
He only had time to pull the appendage out, before he felt himself being rushed again closer to doorway sliding open. Nemesis could only catch his hands to the sides of the door, stopping his brother from pushing him fully out. Hands surrounded his face, Zeus using his body weight to try and force him out. The older could only try to stand his ground before the sharp sounds of gunfire were heard from behind.   
  
 _She wishes to help me. But…the female must know that those weapons are pointless-_  
  
The gleam in his brother's eyes, as well as the assured lick across his teeth was his only warning before a tentacle rammed into Nemesis' bare shoulder, forcing purple blood onto the sliding door track. "Contamination detected in Lab G; door lock active," a small female voice spoke across hidden speakers. As he barely registered the warning, he felt himself bodily shoved outside, the lab doors quickly shutting closed – cutting him off from his brother and his mate.  
  
…  
  
Jill saw him being flung outside moments late, her now trapped with this doppelganger again. She aims her Berettas up at him, the two guns no better than if she was unarmed as well as running low on bullets. Before she could cock one, she felt air as Zeus moved with inhuman speed, backhanding her bodily into the wall, the once pristine surface now coated in red. Stars flooded her vision, the constant abuse catching up to her and fast. Her mind was reeling, her ears ringing with the only constant being the sound of the locked out Tyrant slamming against the metal door. A large gloved hand encircled her neck, Jill too dazed by being reacquainted with the wall to put up a fight her weapons lost from the latest trip.  
  
She feels herself being dragged by the neck, back into the stasis unit room. She could in her daze see barely past the glass wall, the area almost pitch black. Downward were the makings of a living area. But aside from a few outlines of furniture, she couldn't make out much of anything.   
  
The banging from the other room was punctuated with the sounds of anger and rage, the metal giving the sounds of abuse, but not yielding.  Jill feels herself dragged in front of a damaged stasis unit, the hand around her neck loosening. As he moved she tried to struggle free only feeling her hair yanked back, pulling her upwards.   
  
Her blue eyes widened as she suddenly felt her face submerged in cold alien liquid. Zeus held her within the broken tube, she instinctively trying to hold her breath. She could faintly pick up the harsh banging muted from the liquid that surrounded her head. She tried to hold her breath as long as possible her lungs burning from the strain matching her tired body.  
  
Suddenly she was jerked upwards by the monster behind her, her blond hair fanning out more of the cloudy liquid with the sharp tug upwards. As her mouth instinctively gulped for air she was pressed back within her mouth no longer closed, the taste and feel of the unidentifiable liquid flooding her throat and lungs. Jill could only mentally scream as her body tries to breathe liquid.   
  
Her lungs are filling with it, the true terror of drowning filling her mind.  _It feels cold…_  
  
…her eyes start to flutter spasmodically as her body drops in temperature straining against the cold that filled her from within.   
  
Frustration and a deeper constricting feeling coursed through the Tyrant, trying in desperation to break down the now locked door. He could hear water, something thrashing spilling it everywhere…   
  
…  
  
 _…Jill remembers signing away her life as a BSAA – Chris with so many questions and her with so little answers. He prods and prods not believing her losing_  him  _in the sands would drive her to leave; Jill just simply tells him 'I'm done.'_  
  
…  
  
 _Open, now! Open!!_  
  
…  
  
 _Two months in and settled into her new home; she looks down to her belly, her hand nervously rubbing the clearly showing pregnancy. Chris will be at the door any minute now. She remembers the phone call weeks ago as if it was yesterday._  
  
...  
  
 _ **Please open…!**_  
  
…  
  
 _'Hey.'  
  
'…Jilly; what's up?'  
  
'Can you stop by here for a few days – we need to talk.'  
  
'Since when did you want to even speak with me for more than five seconds much less sit and have a full on conversation?'  
  
'I…It's best I show and not tell. I need to talk with you.  **Please**.'  
  
The sound of a deep sigh was heard on the other end.  'I'll get me and …if you don't mind, Sheva, some time off. Is that ok?'  
  
'…I would like that. Very much.'  
  
'You sound …worried, Jill. Is this something you can tell me now?'  
  
'No. Just. Just promise me…you won't fly off the handle.'  
  
'Jill…?'  
  
'I just need someone right now. Ok?'  
  
'I promise…I won't.'_  
  
…  
  
 _The train was full of brightness, the smell of one on his way to death less interesting – but he was in the way; they all were. Why do_  you  _run behind them?_    
  
…  
  
 _Was it truly my fault?_  
  
…  
  
The door made of reinforced anti-B.O.W. grade metal gleamed with spots of purple.  
  
…  
  
 _I can forgive you. Funny, it's easy to say that now without pretense._  
  
…  
  
 _I don't mind being used…just don't toss me away when you're done. At least I_  have  _a use now…_  
  
…  
  
 _She looks up to a knock at the door…_  
  
…  
  
 _The large wooden doors, with large letters – R.P.D. - catch his gaze. He's hitting them, slamming against them with all his might-_  
  
…  
  
 _'…Jill. When…who?'  
  
Sheva only kept her expression neutral…the two were never close; her effectively 'stealing' Chris only made that wedge bigger.  
  
'…it's…she's…' Jill tries to catch her breath; thinking about _him _, speaking about_ him _…only makes the reality of it all that much more frightening, lonelier as no one else in the world would or could understand.  
  
Chris looked at her swollen belly; the slow realization crossing his mind …the truth warring with his sense of sanity and logic.  
  
'…she's…_his,  _Chris. I'm carrying a dead ma-'  
  
'_Monster's  _baby, Jill.' Chris corrected. 'How; fuck, why?!'  
  
'You promised.'  
  
The man fights to control the anger rising at this revelation. 'So you knew two months ago. Why didn't you tell me! The BSAA would've paid for medical leave; we could have gotten you a great doctor and had it –'  
  
'Aborted? No. That's out of the question.'  
  
'Why? You don't know what freak of nature is growing in you!?'  
  
'I…I figured you of all people would be happy; you always said you wanted children.'  
  
Sheva looked up in concern.  
  
Jill caught the quiet woman's gaze. 'Don't worry, I'm not trying to trap Chris in anything…I just…just didn't want the spot blank on the birth certificate…I want her to have people other than me to look up to.' She turns to Chris, her eyes belying her deep-seated fear, 'Even though everything is weird between us, you're the only one I can trust to be there.'  
  
'I…you're asking me to be a father, Jill?'  
  
'I'm asking for help. And if that means making you a_ relative  _then so be it.'  
  
'…..I have to think on this…both me and Sheva as she's in my life Jill; she chooses to stay in it when you wouldn't.'  
  
'I know…let's just say this is my way of letting you back in mine.'_  
  
…  
  
 _she's yelling for help behind those doors…_  
  
…  
  
 _Killing you was so much easier…I was…I was so scared…_  
  
…  
  
 _help that he's now failing to give_  
  
…  
  
 _She was sitting outside enjoying the later summer sun, the breeze jostling her shortened blonde locks. She thought of coloring it but she had grown to like the blonde color over time. That and with the constant preparing of the soon-to-be-born child's room, she just couldn't be bothered with it. She was reading her favored book about myths, already settling on the child's name._ It was fitting _, she mused.  
  
As she began to struggle back to her bed a deep pain spiked from within; Jill glanced down to see clear fluid stain her pants front._  
  
…  
  
 _Another failure on his list of disappointments_  
  
…  
  
 _The sound of a newborn child's cries pierced throughout the hospital room, the sound bell-like and so far sounding like that of any other child. She, as well as the two that rushed her to the hospital, were secretly holding their breath – not for fear of the baby's health, but of anything that would give away her questionable parentage. Both Aunt and Uncle nodded to Jill all smiles – smiles that showed their outward relief at the ordinary appearance of the child.  
  
As the child was handed to her the woman for the first time since the child's father's passing allowed her self to cry tears, but of pure joy, not grief. This child gave Jill her life back.   
  
Her purpose...she can't lose now…_  
  
…  
  
 _Your actions will lead you both to ruin if you end Me_  
  
…  
  
 _You're here now…years late but you're here. Will you die on me again…will we both die down here?_    
  
…  
  
The sound of a pained roar rings through the metal door.  
  
…  
  
 _We can't…she needs us._  
  
…  
  
The sound of metal bending is heard.   
  
 _I need …  
  
You_  
  
…  
  
 _Jill is holding the small toddler in her lap. After an afternoon of rough play, the child had torn a rip in her sundress. She was slowly sewing the small tear in the hem of the dress, the child sitting still despite the high urge to go back out and play.  
  
The thread breaks-_  
  
…  
  
…  
  
…  
  
The eyes that once held life within rolled to the back of her head, her body ceasing movement. Zeus licks his teeth, gleefully holding up the waterlogged woman, her face a full shade of blue. The flicker of life that once gave her pale face warmth was long gone, replaced by a dead stare, liquid leaking from her lips.  
  
A deep guttural laugh sounds from him, before leaning the dead woman's face upward. A long tentacle slides out of his palm. The sound of running then sudden stopping then caught Zeus' hearing. He merely looked at his brother, enjoying the reactions crossing his lipless face. He merely tilts the female's face up, hoping - intending to break him utterly.   
  
 _No more toys for you brother._  
  
The pure dark rage that filled him; it was complete; unrelenting. His eye narrowed, the brow furrowing in conflict, reflecting a deep cutting feeling that at the moment Nemesis could not explain. He always thought he knew what hate was, but he never lost anything, not like this. The female wore a death gaze of pure suffering, a gaze he once before wanted. But to see it in reality…  
  
 _Do monsters grieve?_  
  
Nemesis rushed at Zeus, blinded by rage. In his assault, he didn't notice till too late the other Tyrant tossing her cold body to the side. Instead, the tentacle out from Zeus' hand grabbed Nemesis by the neck hoisting him mid-air back down into a chokeslam against a tubule.   
  
But the older didn't care for games; he wanted blood. He demanded no less.  
  
A gloved hand ripped the tentacle away in fury. A heartbeat later had him run full speed at Zeus, pushing his full body weight against him. He didn't stop pushing them till both bodily burst through the glass wall, pitching both into the dark space below.


	10. SofD - 9 Monsters and Angels

**Monsters and Angels**  
  
 _'I have a sadness shield that keeps out all the sadness, and it's big enough for all of us.'_  
  
  
They both twist mid air, the older using all of his weight to bodily push the stunned Tyrant down with him, the wall of glass trailing behind them refracting dots of topside light in their wake. As gravity pulls them ground ward, Zeus kept lashing out tentacles upward towards, but barely missing Nemesis by inches.   
  
Nemesis could only brace for landing, with Zeus landing back first onto a once elegant dining room table. A halo of disturbed dust filled the air as the at one time ornate piece of furniture coated in dust from years of non use was suddenly filled with the struggling limbs of the two Tyrants. Shards of glass from above landed seconds after on top of them, the fragments creating a halo of destruction in their wake. The table was no match for the combined weight of two Tyrants and literally shattered as it gave under the sudden strain.   
  
They both landed into what resembled the Arklay mansion in décor – an unused under ground living quarters for the employees that had at one time worked and lived in this laboratory.  
  
But neither was in the mood for taking in trappings that only mattered to human eyes; this fight would end with one of them dead and neither planned on making it easy.  
  
Nemesis took advantage of him on top of the other; grabbing the other by his gaping open mouth and slamming him head first into what remained of the expansive wood table. Zeus counters this by looping a tentacle around the elder's neck, the appendage quickly wrapping and tightening around Nemesis with frightening speed.  
  
As the tentacle tightens, spots began to dot his limited vision; still he bangs the younger Tyrant's head into the destroyed table seeing dots of purple coat wherever it landed. Zeus roars in both pain and agitation surging upwards to force the other back, following this with jabbing a stray piece of glass into Nemesis' back.   
  
The tentacles are moving tighter still; Nemesis is forced to pull them off or be choked out. As soon as his hands left the other's maw, the younger Tyrant pulls the other by the throat using his tentacles bringing the other closer to him. A deep almost mocking snarl comes from Zeus' throat, the tentacles now tight enough around the other to crush a human's windpipe in.  
  
Nemesis struggles; the things are causing darkness to edge into his mind clouding it with the promise of rest.   
  
 _…can't…can't sleep again. She's still up there._  
  
As Zeus looks at his brother, he laughs gutturally into his face before hissing lowly, ~ _We will not suffer a traitor to our kind to live, brother._ ~  
  
A thin hiss was the only retort to sound from the slowly suffocating Tyrant.   
  
That was until he used what strength he could muster to rip them off, then kicking Zeus square in the chest. This tosses the other across the room down into a smaller side corridor. For a good long moment, Nemesis had to catch his breath his vision quickly returning to him. Shakily he removes the deeply embedded glass shard cutting into his back, a sickening sucking sound followed a trail of purple left in its removal. But the Tyrant knew as he sat trying to recover so did the other.   
  
He leaped up to track Zeus – only to see that the other B.O.W. wasn't where he should have landed. Immediately he sniffed the air; tracking shouldn't be  _this_  hard they were probably the only living things to touch this level in years. But for the first time, he felt wary and ill at ease as he dearly wished the room wasn't so full of dust.  
  
Sound wasn't as useful either; both good at masking their steps. He turned slightly down the corridor listening to any sound. But all he could hear was a small jostle from his coat, a small displacement of air from himself, a small creak to his back right –  
  
Air moved to his left.  
  
Unlike years ago he learned to compensate, letting his right fist catch Zeus full in the jaw in a full upper cut. This temporarily stuns the other; Nemesis grabbed him by the back tentacles following up by ripping a few free, the ripped appendages spraying purple ichor across the walls. This caused the other to scream in both rage and pain. Zeus retaliated by pushing Nemesis against a small side table, then kicking him, pushing him bodily against the wall.  
  
The younger grabbed hold of the other's top jacket, turning him in full then pushing him face first into the wall multiple times leaving large holes along the metallic surface. Nemesis tried to push back behind him but the other expected this looping a tentacle around the other's left leg pulling Nemesis off balance.   
  
Nemesis tries to swing his arm back instead to knock off the other from him; Zeus merely rears back and bites down hard onto the other Tyrants exposed shoulder. He could literally feel each sharp tooth breaking through skin and muscle his body working overtime to heal. Purple blood coated the floor amidst his screams; Zeus had taken this moment to remove his teeth only to dig his fingers past the staples on Nemesis' scalp, pulling viciously.  
  
Though the haze of pure pain, he pushed a tentacle through the attacking Zeus' right eye, blinding him amidst a shower of purple gore. Now they were working on equal footing - at least vision wise.   
  
Zeus' fingers had relaxed from his battered scalp. This allowed Nemesis to roll back tossing his heavily bleeding brother onto the ground - but not before swiftly rocking his head sharply, backward head-butting him en route. But it seemed that the partial blindness was of a small consequence to Zeus as he rolled back up to grab Nemesis again.   
  
The sound came before the sensation of his brother's spit mingled with his own blood landing on the side of Nemesis' face. The humiliating display served to agitate the elder further as he attempted to swing his fist again behind himself, but the younger merely shifted out of the way. Coating the other in the gore dripping from his lost eye, he threw the older into the nearby plastered wall brace.  
  
Thrown face first against a solid wall support, Nemesis was disoriented before strong hands pulled him closer in. Zeus pulls his brother back by the arms, twisting them from behind. Slowly he squeezed twisting them harder, the joints starting to pop out of their sockets. The older could not pull him off fast enough – but saw another route.  
  
As Zeus twisted further, Nemesis used his lower body strength to leap upward walking up the wall before using the leverage in his legs to leap backward. This caused him to push back against the other Tyrant. His weight combined with his brother's forced Zeus to topple into a small bookcase.  
  
But the fallen and bleeding profusely from both the back and front Tyrant again regrouped quickly, rearing up and pulling Nemesis groundward. Both now were on the ground, Zeus roaring in rage as the wounds he inflicted onto Nemesis earlier were already slowly healing. He decided to fix this by jabbing him with tentacles impaling him in both his sides like living spears.   
  
The elder knew that the other knew of his healing – but he also knew that it came at a price. His brother would just beat him till his taxed body stopped to rest. But if he could just outlast him before then – his brother for all the damage he could give, could not heal.  
  
 _But his brother's strength…could he truly outlast it?_  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
"It seems the BSAA is full of weak-willed people, playing at justice but not having the backbone for it! Everything you and everyone else was assigned came through us - you owe us your jobs, the ongoing health of the goddamn BSAA...Every mission, every tip was gained from outside contacts, Sheva. We need them as much as they need us – even that 'happy find' you people keep protecting was due to us being told that location!  
  
"Did you ever wonder why I detained you two and not Redfield? It wasn't cause I cared! The BSAA has been dragged down by you weak minded fools, him being the king of them! He was a fuckin' cancer –"  
  
"So you can be the 'cure' right? So you can lord over the lesser ones? So you can gloat over her and my pain?!" She could barely contain the still present ringing in her head, the man even with two pressing injuries still adamant on proving his point.  
  
"You were to be my sense of mercy Sheva; you were to prove that there is right in the world. But I was wrong wasn't I! So wrong to expect anything good from people that willingly raise such beasts! That blond bitch started this; giving her that easy out was too good for her -!"  
  
Sia starts to cry, angry at her mother being talked about like she was evil. Her mother always did what was right. This man can't be right at all!  
  
"Oh is the little girl gonna cry? Monsters don't cry; they rip people apart just like all your kind.  _Your family_ ," he sneers, "disgusts me."  
  
Sheva turns to the bruised man, her eyes reading pure anger her bodily tired and fighting the urge to collapse. As she begins to counter his statement, Trent suddenly pushes against his broken leg, lunging for Sia. Sheva could only try and futilely grab for her, her body broken and bloody her head still ringing. But he was closer grabbing the shell-shocked child to himself, his body shaking in his rage…voice strained thin in both pain and anger, screaming, ranting into the child's ear.  
  
"My…my son felt such pain – he died in so much pain. Do you feel pain…? DO YOU?!" He laughed, the sound broken and strange, his internal turmoil rising to the surface. "Why am I asking  _you_? Monsters don't feel pain, monsters don't feel remorse; they just take everything you love!"   
  
"An eye for an eye? I thought most knew where that line of thinking ultimately leads, Trent. Let her go," the woman commanded the distraught man. She clicks the gun coated with both dirt and blood, pointing it point blank at his head. Trent only grabs Sia closer to himself, using her as body shield.  
  
"That child was my life, Sheva. It wasn't much of a life but Tomas meant everything to me," he whispers, grabbing the child tighter by moving his arm around her neck. Trent leans back closer to Sia's ear, his voice a soft hiss, "Do you wanna know a secret little girl? I saw that broken mess of your Daddy limping around; I saw him wander around like a lost puppy...it's funny how simple dust fucks him up huh? Had I known that crazy was going to just dick around and not finish killing him, I'd have shot him myself then..."  
  
A low growl came from the child, barely audible to Trent. "Yes, get angry. Prove me right...maybe your  _Auntie_  will see what you really are underneath!"  
  
"Put her down, Trent."  
  
"Why Sheva? Don't you understand you're letting the monsters win?"  
  
"He's a monster. You're a monster. From what I can see it doesn't matter either way."  
  
"I'M NOT A MONSTER!" The man roared at the accusation, gripping the child painfully tight to himself. Trent was bodily trembling, his fragile patience running thin.  
  
"Why do you fight so hard for Valentine anyway? All you've gotten out of it was a crazy chick's hand-me-downs and" shaking Sia sharply in his grasp, " _this_. Why? What crazy obligation has you fighting common sense?"  
  
"I …I owe her."  
  
"Not your life, Alomar. She isn't worth all this."  
  
"…She gave me even if it was just temporary a chance to pretend I had a family, a life. And for a hand-me-down, Chris was worth every minute. I for the things I have done to her would never wish to discard what good memories dealing with her brought. I got to be a mother, just for a little while. I got to have people I care enough to fight and die for. So yeah, I'll play at being a loyal Knight for a bit longer."  
  
"….I…  
  
….I didn't even get to bury my son. I didn't even get to hold him…I didn't even get the chance to tell him I loved him." Tears, long needed to be shed fell down his bruised and bloody face. "I can only watch his last moments recorded in some shitty surveillance video as the only physical reminder that he even existed at all..."   
  
The voice that came out from him dipped into a low growl. "How dare that  _thing_  get to feel fatherhood? How dare  _it_  get anything at all?" Sia flinched as she felt his fingernails dig into her arms in his ranting.  
  
"Down."  
  
"Why?" A simple, almost earnest tone came from Trent, looking up at Sheva as if she had the clear answers. That momentary clarity washed away as he jerks his arm, coiling it tighter around the child's neck. Noticeably, he lowered her downward allowing Sheva a clear shot to his vital regions.    
  
"Why should I?" He smiles bitterly. The man slowly loosens his hold on the child, letting Sia topple out of his lap. He faced the raised gun in Sheva's hand with a smile full of frozen acceptance, his features unnaturally pale.  
  
 _She knows that she has a possible case against him, knows this with the just information she had gleaned, but again who knows how far the corruption really is? Could she even assume it's just the Cali branch at this point? Or could she allow herself to simply end this all now?_    
  
"I have nothing without my son."  
  
 _Could she do this anymore?_  
  
"Sia… turn away." Her voice was calm but sharp.  
  
"Auntie?"  
  
"…turn, girly." The child obediently turns, her small form shaking.   
  
Sheva points at Trent, the man's face reading deep loss – and resignation.   
  
She pointed towards his heart, the gun cocking in preparation as she walked to him. Staring down at this man, this broken angry man…She wanted to. Wanted to make him feel what pain he caused – to make him hurt. But then what? Everyone hurt. Everyone has to live with pain; with regret, with sorrow.   
  
"No. No easy outs for you."  
  
Sheva clicks back on the safety, then threw the gun to the side, not even bothering to meet his gaze. She merely turned away, walking towards Sia.  
  
Trent looked up at her walking away, the look of regret and confusion clear in his eyes.   
  
" _Why?_    
  
…  
  
Why didn't you?"  
  
"Monsters …don't deserve mercy."   
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
The two were embroiled in a fight of attrition; neither one willing to concede to the other.   
  
Zeus was bleeding heavily, but the damage did nothing to slow down the onslaught he visited on the other. He was missing various straps; one arm sleeve hung on by a few threads coated with gore. Nemesis despite healing some of his injuries looked ragged and tired, drooling blood from the corner of his maw no doubt from Zeus insisting on him meeting the walls with his face. His top coat was coated in various splatters, most of them originating from himself. His bottom skirt and pants fared no better ripped and torn from the various impalements visited on him by his sibling. The constantly kicked up dust only added more to his fatigue.  
  
The older had ripped off a few pipes earlier from the flimsy construction of the old support flooring, attempting to beat Zeus down in desperation. But the idea backfired as one of the broken ends of the free-standing pipe had ended up impaled through his exposed upper arm through to the floor.   
  
Purple blood was coloring various potions of the literally destroyed quarters, indentations of both registering along the walls. He was forced to defend himself while pinned to the floor, using his tentacles to pull Zeus down by his own chest straps.   
  
He laughed in the other Tyrant's face as he literally impaled Zeus onto the same metal by the shoulder the metal spearing through battlesuit and flesh. This was before he felt a cheap shot to the groin as Zeus decided to use his glaring difference against him. This merely pisses Nemesis off as he pushes both Zeus and himself off the pipe. The sound and pain of muscle ripping greet his senses but he ignores it, pushing them both up from the pipe then tossing Zeus against a frosted glass door.   
  
The door shatters into pieces but Nemesis pushes the other down onto the frame the glass left sticking up like beautifully etched knives. The sound of the stronger Tyrant's pained screams ring like music to the other's ears. Zeus reigns in his own agonizing pain and snaps his teeth up at the other the impalement not even slowing him down. He kicks outward and up his boot catching in Nemesis' face.   
  
The older stumbles back into what looked to be a trophy room. It was full of dead creatures long stuffed and mounted for the previous inhabitants' enjoyment. The heads of deer, hares, a bear, various fowl and other assorted creatures dotted the walls along with a few at one time well-maintained guns and various antique weaponry. Many had engraved plate inscriptions underneath such as the date killed and species of each.  
  
Along the middle of the room was a mounted white owl, the whole body stuffed and mounted with wings spread fully open giving the appearance of a bird in flight. Even after years of negligence, the wings were still impressive and mostly undamaged by the years of dust coating it.  
  
He had little time to examine it further as Zeus leaped into the room grabbing Nemesis in a choke hold. His large arm wrapped around the other's neck with every intention of choking him out again if not outright snapping his neck. Tentacles followed up the assault, stabbing Nemesis' overtaxed body in various places inches deep – some pushing deeper still making the floor pool underneath the two in purple.  
  
His eyelid slid halfway, just for a moment allowing him … _a faint glimpse of wings  
  
He finds himself barely lucid strapped down to a large chair. The humans gingerly wheeled him down to a hidden hall; a place he would find himself intimately acquainted with over time. He felt stiff, groggy, the sharp pain of something new pressing into his lower back. One of their number began to turn down another hall parting from them; the darker-skinned male he fought with earlier, he vaguely recalled. He picked up on the faint smells of various other humans the male encountered on a daily basis.  
  
One of them, small yet there caught his attention; a low growl of recognition caused his escorts to visibly flinch._   
  
She's  _here…_  
  
fanned out amongst a radiant smile…  
  
 _I'm seeing things…_    
  
Nemesis' eye slid fully closed the taxing assault down here finally taking its toll. He started to slip again into unconsciousness, it beckoning him, tempting him with promises of sleep. It beckoned him with that voice – a voice that lies and yet sounds so good despite them.  
  
 _His mind had shut down…a baser one taking over when it was just too much to do. Too much to chase her. Too much to merely function. He did not know what he did in that state, but her voice woke him up out of that blessed sleep._  
  
Woke him up as that horrid line; that horrid LIE had left her lips.  
  
 _She promised him death but…but the sadness that filled her eyes…the sadness he never realized was even there…that still resides there...till now. They were equals even then…and now that everything was all out in the open he stands to lose her. She did show him stars, the stars that dot his vision when she holds him near, the stars as he's lost again and again in her arms._  
  
A woman with blond hair; her wings breaking apart to form a red ribbon...the long red fabric drifts along the spots in his vision…  
  
 _The stars that dotted the sky as she ran and brazenly rescued him. The sadness amidst the stars in her eyes as he let go of her hand to fall deep in the sands._  
  
 **The stars that are now gone because of this pale copy!?**    
  
The black inky rage that he had long since forgotten; the rage of being forced to be alone – it twisted, focusing on this,  _this_ creature that dared to act as if it was like him. This creature that along with everyone else abandoned him.  _Everyone except her_. This creature that would kill the female if he didn't live.  _If she wasn't_ -  
  
His fists, his whole being shook with deep, single-minded, unadulterated hatred and  **purpose**.  
  
He reached his hands back, grabbing Zeus by the shoulders and thrusting backward causing the other to let go of his choking hold. The tentacles are still jabbing into him; he stomps down onto the other's foot, and slaps him hard, scratching Zeus' face in the process. This causes the tentacles stabbing him to retreat. Zeus, stunned by the sudden movement tries to recover grabbing at Nemesis again. Nemesis had turned to face him – but knelt downward suddenly. With a surge of strength, he bodily flings Zeus over his shoulder into the wall by the mounted birds.  
  
Zeus momentarily is disoriented and was about to retaliate but the older Tyrant didn't give him a chance. The disoriented Tyrant had exposed his blinded side in his confusion. Taking advantage the other made a movement to cause Zeus to use his good eye to see him approaching. With pinpoint aim Nemesis thrusts out his left palm, his fingers pushing through the other Tyrant's remaining eye. Purple warmth flooded around his fingers before brutally ripping the other's remaining eye out.  
  
Zeus began to flail about his maw open in a pained scream; not expecting to lose all of his vision. The blinded Tyrant trying to suddenly cope with this knocks back against the owl, its wings surrounding him in a macabre hug. The feathers from the wings merely fly off, the frail taxidermied bird falling apart on top of him.   
  
The feathers swirl around Zeus, the stray things sticking to his bloodied face.  
  
Nemesis noted a dust-covered length of metal underneath the owl. As the other struggled with the loss of his other eye, the dust was brushed from portions of it revealing an ornate, thin pummel that topped the length of a heavily dust covered blade.  
  
Beneath it was a spotted, dusty plaque with an inscription on it –  
  
'νέμειν'  
  
The letters were foreign to him, yet somewhere he knew he had seen them before…  
  
But that was only of secondary concern now. He was done playing this game. He was done fighting, done with this inferior creature. He won't let him take the few things he had away.   
  
 _He will not suffer this creature to live._    
  
He pushed the other out of his way, the arms of Zeus groping air. His large hand dwarfed the handle, but it slid out of its place easily. As the blade sat in Nemesis' hand, Zeus lunged towards him, adjusting to using the sound in the room. A deep roar rocked the room as the younger Tyrant regrouped the sound declaring his promise of murder towards the older.  
  
Nemesis circled him, moving slow keeping sound to a minimum. The two circled both leery of the other, both knowing that the other was desperate now. Along the back wall opposite of the owl held a large wall length tapestry of a goose fleeing a swan, the large installation a thing of artistic beauty if not for the dust and faint splatters of purple that recently landed onto the years old fabric.   
  
They seemed to mirror the two in a slow circular dance, the swan gaining. One with bloodied arms lunged forward - but this time the goose was armed. Zeus snapped at him hoping to catch anything into his sightless maw. Nemesis dodged but realized a second too late the appendage wrapping around his ankle. Another second later found him falling to the floor his limbs bound tight.  
  
Despite being blind Zeus shoots out more long purple tendrils, pushing out the thick things in a desperate attempt to entrap the other. So many shot out at once, many ripping through Zeus' battle suit. They coiled around the older, the sheer amount bodily restraining Nemesis. Between the surprise at such a maneuver and a few tentacles coiling around his arms, the dusty metal was jerked out of his hand from the sudden movement. It fell audibly to the floor sliding towards the wall tapestry.  
  
The trapped Tyrant could only expend more energy trying to struggle, futilely dragging his nails across the dusty floor. But he was merely lifted into the air before he was returned back to the ground; bodily being slammed back downward repeatedly and mercilessly. The repeated journey began with his head then back meeting the cool surface, his taxed form losing his second wind quickly.  
  
~We have succeeded. Where you couldn't. Father needed us. Over you!~ Zeus snarled in rage. Nemesis could barely summon the energy to snarl at the sudden statement.  
  
Despite the increasing blur each slam caused to his vision, the Tyrant saw that his brother had blundered; Zeus in his torture was drifting closer, not away from where the sword had landed. But Nemesis doubted he could withstand staying conscious long enough to wait till they were close enough to get it manually; he could only grit his teeth as he was pitched downwards again and again. It was becoming too hard to think now.  
  
With a free tendril of his own, he thrashed not at Zeus, but for the weapon. But trying to aim for the thing was damn difficult, his vision disoriented and purple bleeding into his eye from the constant thrashing. Zeus, in feeling the lean in his captive's movement moved towards the direction the other was pulling. Nemesis pondered this as momentarily Zeus had stopped beating him against the floor.  
  
They were moving past the metal object and towards the wall hanging, the younger patting the wall in a gesture to place their location in the room. As Nemesis again tried for the sword he felt himself lifted up again;  _brother planned on using the wall now_. As his broken form was lifted upwards towards a new beating ground, the Tyrant reached out one more time.  
  
Instead of gunning for the sword, he used the tentacle to pull the large wall length wall hanging over top of Zeus, it covering them both. The confusion of a large thing over top of him caused the slight loosening of the appendages trapping the other. Slight enough for the elder to reach for the metal sword with tentacles of his own.   
  
As the blinded Zeus scramble to figure out what was on top of him, Nemesis slashed out with the blade, cutting a batch of the restraints from him. The younger screamed out in pain, not expecting to lose so many tendrils at once nor so suddenly. The floor was ringed in purple, the younger adjusting to feeling the sensation of being coated in his own blood from the mass tentacle loss.   
  
As he lunged in permanent blindness for Nemesis, the other rolled out of the large tapestry. The other attempted to as well but his lack of vision made a simple movement exceedingly difficult, the woven art piece wrapping around the bleeding Tyrant sticking to Zeus' blood.  
  
Zeus flailed but in his rush to get up only caused the whole of the tapestry to wrap around his legs and upper body. The beast snarled and began to in frustration tear it to shreds the fabric binding him along with the uncomfortable void of permanent darkness. He managed to press his head out of the binding fabric the rush of air bringing slight comfort. This was before he felt a foot press his head downward.  
  
~Brother…?~ was softly whimpered.  
  
The lone eyed Tyrant looked down at one that could no longer see. A deep growl came from him, the dusty blade glinting in his gloved hand. He held it, the feeling of it so similar…  
  
Behind the mess that was the owl appeared a winged Woman her hair tied back in an intricate bun the blond strands in places hanging free; She walked towards him, Her eyed gaze filled with a startling blue. Soft hands grazed the blade the appearance of Her own blood coating it until it landed upon his gloved hand.   
  
 _Give him his just due.  
  
That is what the letters mean._  
  
The older looks down to his brother, blinded and almost out of the destroyed tapestry. Tentacles were already pushing through it further ruining the art piece. He turns the trapped Tyrant over, pointing the sword at his neck.  
  
At this Zeus begins to grab around haplessly before a deep, venomous growl rang through the room. With all the strength he could muster Nemesis brought the sharp blade down slicing him through the neck. The sound of gurgling could only be heard, the screams mixing with wet, each attempt spraying more purple ichor along the floor. He lost himself as he brought it down, again and again, the blade warping with each strike. Despite this the Tyrant struck repeatedly; not stopping till it hit the floor, no more flesh slowing it in its decent. Once free, the head rolled across the floor, the tentacles that still moved in the torso still unaware that the bulk was now headless.  
  
He walked to the head rolling a path of purple from the body, grabbing the bloody trophy in his left hand his large fingers slipping through the ravaged eye sockets. Nemesis leaned the gore-slick head of his brother against the wall, the skin already graying with death - before impaling the blade through the gray flesh on to the thick walls, the sword's hilt the only thing showing through Zeus' slack open maw. The head and sword sat where the large tapestry once hung, the wall plaque underneath reading:   
  
 _'The Rape of Nemesis'_  
  
He for the briefest of moments leaned against the wall, the fight taking so much out of him, the visit by the Woman all but forgotten. Wherever his hands touched along the dirty walls, a trail of purple followed.  
  
A soft hand pats the Tyrant's scalp, a soft voice whispering:  _Do not falter._    
  
…He turned to find where the sound came from, but he saw no one but himself and his dead brother.  
  
 _He couldn't rest now.  
  
She needed him._  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
As the two turned to head out, the sound of heavy footfalls filled the air around encircling the three.  BSAA troops surrounded them, their guns pointed at the ready. The sounds of scraping metal could be heard; Sheva could see a few troops trying to work open the metal elevator, still locked from inside.  
  
An operative stepped forward, looking from Sheva to Trent. His brow arched in a questioning look. "We heard gunfire originating from here; sir - what happened here?"  
  
Trent ignored the man, looking at Sheva. "Don't walk away from this."  
  
Sheva looked back at the bloody commander. "I can and will."  
  
"You're going to ignore all of this? That child is not huma-"  
  
"Her birth certificate says Chris Redfield is her father. What fantasy you have of her being anyone else's child will be thrown out of court," she interjects.  
  
"I can prove she's not his Sheva. Hell, even that loopy bitch said that thing was the father. Information will surface-"  
  
"Not if you aren't around to investigate." At this, members of the group that surrounded them looked towards her with questioning looks; but a few others looked with open hostility knowing exactly what they were referring to.   
  
"Wha- You can't hide this forever! People will ask; they will question!"  
  
"She was never written up as a BSAA target…you have nothing but hearsay about her parentage save for a B.O.W. trader. And I doubt you're willing to have such a questionable witness linked to yourself."   
  
"Wait…you can't! You can't turn from me! I will make sure people find out Alomar!" His hands were balled into fists, the battered man's rage rising again.  
  
"We'll deal with that when the time comes. But for now, you are not of our concern." Sheva looked to the troops, now blocking her van off from both herself and the child. "Let us through."  
  
"No! Don't…they are Federal Prisoners-"  
  
She whispered lowly so that only he could hear, "No. You are." Sheva flips open her cell, holding it up to Trent's face. He looked at the flip screen – and saw multiple uploads, forwards to a third party. Many were emails, sent using Chris' executive privileges still currently active. The forwarded emails had specific subjects – all addressed to a 'Tra Tra'.   
  
"And this is just what I found. There are pictures from Chris' phone that I'm certain will not help if they were to see the light of day. Keep in mind I've sent them to trustworthy sources outside of the Cali BSAA. I could use them, but I'd rather play nice. For now." Sia clung closer to Sheva, the child shrinking from the belligerent man openly glaring daggers at her.  
  
"You…you can't Sheva. You walk with that child and your hands will be forever bloody. Trying to play the loving supportive White Knight is not worth that little shit you keep protecting. You must know what threat she is. She'll just take away everything from you, just like  _him_! You walk away and you'll have nothing!"  
  
"I can and will. She can't take anything more from me than  _you_  already have. Sia let's go."  
  
As Trent sat stunned, the group parted, letting the battered woman and child move to leave. As they both board Sheva's van, Sia turns back looking directly at Trent one last time through the gap of the slowly closing van's door. The man started to leap forward, while other BSAA tried to keep him still and off his injured leg. He could only squirm, no one but himself catching her backward glance.  
  
That glare; that white pupiless glare burned itself deep in his memory, the almost smug smile that accompanied it crossing the child's face running his blood cold - robbing him of his nerve as the pair left together in the van.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
The trek back upwards was nothing even in his battered state, his will in reaching the female keeping him going. As the monster reached the floor he pushed himself and his dead brother down, a loud cheerful female voice blared across countless wall speakers across the lab complex.  
  
"Due to heavy viral contamination, the lab is going into containment mode. Any live staff should close off their area and proceed to the nearest designated safe containment areas as outlined in evacuation procedures 36 and 37. Upper halls 0001 through 0008 will lock down within 10 minutes. Labs and living quarters on the bottom floor will be purged within 7 minutes to hasten the cleansing process. Labs up top will purge within 8 minutes. Anyone caught inside will be cleansed so all staff, repeat all staff should proceed to the nearest designated safe containment areas as outlined in evacuation procedures 36 and 37. Please walk in an orderly manner…"  
  
He tuned out the irritating voice only aware that it meant that they needed to leave and soon. The battered Tyrant leaped up to the damaged room, smelling the still fresh drops of her blood. It made him cringe that he took so long to find her.   
  
Nemesis rooted around the room; internally panicking. Her scent was masked by the smell of debris - if not muted by the fluid she was dunked in. Frustrated growls coated the room until he saw an upturned table. He walked closer seeing a slender hand limp, barely grazing its side. Her small form was crumpled to its side, obstructed by the various contents of the room.  
  
The table was quickly flipped aside like trash as he cupped her in his arms. She hung limply, her lips a deep shade of blue. She did not move, did not breathe. Gently, he picks her up.  
  
 _…she's so frail…_  
  
A much smaller hand sat unmoving in his large palm; he brushes one limp finger with his wishing for a movement even just a small one. Wishing for her voice even if it's just to tell him another lie.  _I like the way you lie…_ Wishing for her eyes; to look upon him with that gaze that never shrank back; that never could cloud over in vague statements but only full of truth …to open just a little. Her lips part slightly open due to gravity, the loose trickle of fluid trailing faintly down the corner of her mouth and further along her cheek.  
  
Large arms tremble before he sinks back to the ground. He hugs her close, rocking her to himself. She looked the same as when she was tossed aside before he had gone and fought down below.  
  
 _…can't regenerate..._  
  
"25 seconds before purging of bottom lab and residential floors; personnel should proceed to the nearest designated safe containment areas as outlined in evacuation procedures 36 and 37…"  
  
The Tyrant leans into the crook of her neck, hoping, willing for a pulse, anything to denote life.  
  
"Purging of bottom floors in progress."  
  
The smell of chemical hit the air, followed by the sound of steam. Everything starts to ripple with the waves of heat suddenly filling the air. As it ripples it fills with white-hot, then orange lapping up everything in its fiery wake.  
  
 _Jill…_  
  
He holds her for a good long moment as the world around them starts to burn.


	11. SofD - Epilogue

**Epilogue**    
  
  
The two are sitting inside the van, the sound of a belt clicking into place. Sheva waited for the other tale tale click, but only was greeted by the worried fidgeting of the small child. Sia was trembling the frustration on her face; a face that despite the trauma she went through showed not a scratch on her pale skin.  
  
"Sia honey, stop it."  
  
The child stopped only to look up at the woman, "But...but Momma and Daddy are IN there Auntie!?"  
  
"And what do you think you'd do in there?"  
  
"Help of course. I'm a monster you know." The girl looks up at Sheva both a look of pure pride with a hint of worry on her small face, faintly stained with dried on blood spatter.  
  
Sheva didn't have time for this. She didn't want to deal with this now. "And who told you that? You're no monster, just a little girl playing one at bed time."   
  
"I  _said_  so. I  _know_  so. And they  _need_  me, Auntie!?"  
  
"No. They  _need_  you to be  _safe_  – they would do anything for you. Honor them and be safe if not for yourself, for  _them_."  _For them. For me._  
  
"For them?" The child looked at Sheva trying to understand the meaning behind that.  
  
"Yes. For them. They gave up so much for you…don't toss that away."  A distant look crossed Sheva's eyes; the tears that threatened them held back. She would not grieve in front of this child. She needs to be strong for not just herself…but for this little girl.   
  
Her thoughts drifted to the note in her pocket.   
  
 _Could she bear to go through with it?  
  
Jill…Please don't make me do this._  
  
The sound of the well-worn engine shuddered then powered completely on the van trembling to life. As she began to turn the vehicle out from its hiding spot, Sheva began to hum a low tune it familiar and comforting. A song that kept her going in the worst of times.  
  
  
"Momma would sing that to me all the time, Auntie…"  
  
"Really? I taught it to her. Sing with me?"  
  
"O…k…."   
  
The words came from child and adult, the somber song becoming punctuated by explosions, loud noises that sounded farther and farther away as time passed. The child turns towards her window seeing troops scattering away from the lab complex, the loud countdown reverberating through the air.  
  
"'...All our prayers go unanswered' ...Don't look girly, just sing with me."  
  
"Auntie…"  
  
"Sing with me, okay…" Her voice dropped to a whisper; Sia looked up to study Sheva's face, the woman worn, tired, her bloodied face filling with tears.  
  
"Remember when you said that Momma was sad all the time?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
The child reaches to her free hand, closing her small fingers around Sheva' much larger one. She squeezes only to feel Sheva squeeze back.    
  
The building lurched as BSAA scattered from the increasingly violent shaking from underneath. Vans started to cram full with the troops left as flames welled up from deep within the building. The flames came up with explosions, death, and heat in tow; the two did not turn to look at the building collapsing in on it's self, nor the small ring of fire that framed it.  
  
Their song was the only sound that mattered in the small world inside the van.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
-A Few Days Later-   
  
  
It was a pale, dreary morning. The land had barely dried from a short downpour hours earlier. But the world, like it always had, moved on. People gathered around the center of attention, clad in either black or military uniform. Umbrellas; some open some folded in fluttered around many of their heads, preparing for the sky to open again to join them in their mourning.  
  
A Pastor, surrounded by members of immediate family and friends sat up front, all in states of either grief or shock but each covering themselves from the chilly morning air. At the center of it all was a silver casket, cradling the once gruff yet kind man; hair slick back but face left gruff as requested almost unanimously by all. He would've wanted it that way.  
  
The family of the fallen BSAA Commander was to view first, letting each say their goodbyes to the man who died in the line of duty. A small hand grazed along the silver, trying to peer at the man inside. Slender yet toned arms lifted her up, the child's head brushing the woman's wide-brimmed hat, her face shaded by the black headwear as well as large shades covering eyes blurry and tired.  
  
"Bye, Unca' Chris..." The child lay inside a small picture; a drawing of the gruff man with angel wings under his unmoving hand. The child was lifted down, allowing the woman herself to gaze upon him for one last time.  
  
As much as she wanted to say something, anything to the man she dearly loved – nothing came. Nothing; then a choking sob that became a torrent trailed down her face. She leaned onto the casket not wanting to let go. No one rushed or tried to remove her; she lay there...until the soft hand of Sia wrapped around Sheva's own.  
  
Sheva could only calm herself...she had to be strong, just a bit longer. She walked hand in hand with the little girl, her own eyes puffy but for once a radiant blue, not faintly white. The woman turned her head towards the BSAA that showed up to Chris' funeral, not hiding her contempt for them all in her eyes. She knew that they only showed up to save face. Ever since that violent event, she was a pariah to them. Not that Sheva gave a damn.   
  
They were the monsters, not her.  
  
Trent was not present; she was privately grateful as Sheva didn't know if she'd be able to stop herself from ripping his throat out. The man was placed in a military hospital supposedly from 'in the field action'. But she knew better. She fought him hard, staring into the eyes of madness. Supposedly he was doing well until vicious rumors started.    
  
Rumors had it that he was suffering from symptoms they could not place. The man was racking up a fever, his skin turning pale. He had been constantly itching his skin becoming covered in sores originating from his leg. They had to strap him down ever since he took to biting people. Doctors said that he had started to deteriorate from talking random fevered gibberish to low growls.   
  
Then after one evening biting through his binds, he had 'gone rabid' attacking anyone within reach - forcing security to shoot him in order to prevent him from killing a staff member. Medical staff kept questioning those last seen around him including herself, but none could explain what could cause that. The man was mentally unstable. It was rumored he kept screaming of a white-eyed demon in psychotic fits before he lost it entirely. If what the rumors said were true; after that night...are they now just realizing this?  
  
But unofficially, eyes landed on her and her temporary ward. Sheva despite wanting to keep her by her side, knew that eventually her hold over members of the Cali BSAA would break; they would come for Sia and maybe even for Sheva herself. She knew that her next actions were for the best.  
  
And so they both walked away from the sea of black, the sea of silently staring eyes and the clouds threatening to spill on them all towards her car.  
  
"And on this day, we send our brother, Christopher Redfield to rest with the souls of our past heroes, virtuous..."  
  
...  
  
A well-worn van rolls into view, the two passengers still clothed in Sunday best, only silence inside between the two. Their hands though are interwoven with the other, the small pale hand gripping the darker one in nervousness.  
  
 _The lab that once sat on the nondescript land, filled with smoke, gun casing, and the abandoned vehicles that troops could not grab in time, suddenly became no more than a ring of bright fire. The smell of gas leaked out into the air, the building along with the heavily damaged compact Jill rammed into the lab front becoming quickly engulfed in flames._  
  
The van is packed with luggage, mementos, and various items belonging to both occupants. The well-worn vehicle turns, then comes to a complete stop in the desolate lot. The van lights were the last to shut off plunging the place into almost complete dark save for a few beams. The faint sound of an engine could be heard from farther away. Both the woman and child step out of the car.  
  
The place echoes each step both made on the pavement. It was desolate save for the idling jet sitting on a small patch of landing strip the lights becoming more pronounced the farther they walked. The child is quiet, but the look of sadness and barely registerable grief is present on her face. But they both ignored the large craft, standing near their van.  
  
Within minutes, another van drove up beside them. The dark van had all its windows tinted so that one couldn't tell what sat inside.   
  
A woman with a baseball cap on and shades emerges from the driver's seat. The stranger then starts up a conversation with Sheva.  
  
"She looks well, considering what she's been through."  
  
"That's my bean sprout, standing tall and brave – aren'tcha Sia?" The child nods her head, squeezing Sheva's hand.  
  
"You?"  
  
"Me? What about me?"  
  
"Are you holding up well? She didn't just lose her parents, she lost her Uncle and soon you."  
  
"...it's...it's what her parents would have wanted. She has nothing here. The ...the vultures are already eying-" The woman nods her head in accent, then places her hand on the grieving woman's shoulder. Sheva's face is like always holding up a brave front but her eyes betray her grief. And this will only heap more upon her ... _but she made a promise_.  
  
"You should be at the service you know."   
  
"I made my peace. Let the monsters feast on their own shit."  
  
A wan grin crosses the other woman's face, but otherwise, nothing denoting her feelings on the matter. Sheva and the woman quickly move Sia's luggage from one vehicle to the other. While they move things, Sheva looks towards the woman.   
  
" _...And everything ended happily ever after, right?_  Is this the happy end everyone was hoping for?" As she said this, tears slowly fell, the decisions made and actions taken leading to this. Leading to having to hide this child that she'd die for. Sheva kept moving things until a soft, barely audible reply came from her side.  
  
"No. But it's good enough to live with." The woman adjusted her shades her outfit a simple jumpsuit. She moved with quiet speed knowing that their time was limited. The last item that left the van was worn, an item that amongst all of them had become a sort of symbol of the 'family'. A story of a child living a simple fantasy of monsters... a simple fantasy they all had of maintaining such a strange wish.  
  
Sheva leans to give Sia her book, the book that held wishes that could never be – but the child returns the book back. Sheva looked at the child surprised she would give such a thing up. "Girly, you...you don't have to. This is yours."  
  
"But Auntie. This is a key now."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"This book is special. When you read it you can make monster island appear like Max...and...and come visit us before bed. You'll come visit, right Auntie?"    
  
At this, the tall woman grabbed the child into a hug, crying onto the child's shoulder.  
  
"I promise girly. I promise to read it every night and visit." Sheva hugs her deeply, not wanting to let go of the little monster in her arms. As they hug the soft almost remorseful voice cuts through the air again.  
  
"Is everything accounted for?"  
  
"What do ghosts need reassurances for?" A thin smile crosses Sheva's face.  
  
"Are you sure I am one?"  
  
"As sure as the world believes you are. But beware – ghosts are not immune to the looks of devils."  
  
"Then I'll take that risk. Before we head out, would you like to hear a story?"  
  
Sheva smiles and nods. The story was beginning and the woman didn't want to miss a thing.   
  
"Well...there was a knight tired and worn…hmm do we have time to start from the beginning?"  
  
 _Nemesis holds Jill, not caring about the fire…but deep down knowing that he should at least return for the child. At least she's ok…But he won't leave the female behind. Either they leave together or not at all. He starts to run, run hard and fast steps ahead of the raging inferno churning behind them._  
  
"Nah...lets skip to the good part."   
  
 _Doors were starting to shut in containing the 'outbreak'. He ducked under one, using the momentum from running to slide himself and Jill under it. As he recovered up onto his feet small twitching was felt from the body in his arms. Along her pale neck was movement along her skin…the faint discoloring of purple branched like a vine up her throat, the color as quickly as it shown fading back into her skin. As quick as that was, the sudden jerk of her inhaling air as if she was suddenly forced a large amount was heard.  
  
Her eyes snapped open; once were clouded over in death suddenly had slow bits of color fading back to prominence around the pupils – reflecting a bit of momentary fear and confusion. Her face reflected shock and disorientation, the sudden and forceful resuscitation taxing to both mind and body.  
  
 **Death is never this kind…Is this my just due?**  
  
He gripped her tighter, not stopping but refusing to let her go. She relaxed, realizing that at least in her rebirth she was in the arms of someone familiar. Not on a lab table, or in a cell, but just here.  
  
The feel of a soft cough was felt on his left shoulder.  
  
The soft movement of air became more pronounced, the small movement from the limp woman in his arms progressing into a hacking cough the sound garbled with water. He would have stopped to examine but the fire was close behind them both._  
  
"Are they monsters?"  
  
"No. We're better than that."  
  
 _A trail of fluid leaked from the female's mouth leaking onto his shoulder, small jerky movements registering from her battered form. Color slowly was returning to her features each vein, each bruise reverting to its original state as if they never happened.  
  
He ran out towards the elevators, but switched to the left down a narrower hallway. A small side entrance in case the elevator was out was found here. He did not trust it to work or the humans outside. The doorway was the same he woke to; the same one the Woman in her prime led him to exit from this Hell. He ran, feeling urged to go faster the woman clinging to him as his eye encountered something he thought neither of them would see again._  
  
"The knight ran and ran through the winding halls of their fiery grave. Finding"  
  
 _Sunlight._  
....................  
  
  
Sheva glances inside the open door of the van. The two in the back were snuggled under the blanket, the small child curled against the large breathing expanse of leather. And for a moment a feeling of wariness graced Sheva's features – the blood that one has shed and the sum that the other may have made her wonder if she could trust the world to not leave them be as much as to live with them. As much as she liked to see the driver as just that, the blue piercing eyes over the shades are clouded both with her own sins and with the look of hopeful revisionism.  
  
But the next statement made had Sheva cement her choice.    
  
"By the way...Who said I wasn't a devil to begin with?" The woman softly parted her short brown hair, the color artificial but passable. She smiled before grabbing Sheva into one last hug.  
  
"So where will you guys go?" Sheva whisper's into the other's ear, her body trembling.  
  
"Where the wild things are," Jill replies, the tale tale feeling of wet tears hitting Sheva's shoulder. "Do the right thing as always," the auburn-haired woman whispered in a soft tremble before letting go. She looked onto Sheva one last time, then turned to her van. As the engine powered on, the woman known as Jill Valentine made move to disappear as devils are wont to do.  
  
Sheva clutches her Ids, muttering under her breath the note she was left. The words gave her tired heart something to focus on as her best friend and niece drove to places far and away.  
  
"But already my desire and my will  
  
 _Jill leans back tousling Sia's hair._  
  
were being turned like a wheel,   
  
 _Sia hugs the large Tyrant hiding under the van's blankets._  
  
all at one speed,  
  
 _The van turns down the road heading to anywhere and nowhere._  
  
by the  ~~Love~~  which moves the sun and the other stars."   
  
 _Sheva turns to her van full of luggage, preparing for her flight._  
  
"I can now morn for all of you..."  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
Sheva sits in the almost empty plane with Josh to the side, staffed with people wearing Africa branch BSAA uniforms; she has a place already waiting in the African branch – the Cali branch is only now started to have investigative teams rooting through their ranks, causing the once secretive bureaucracy that formed over the years under Chris' nose to be cut into harder than Swiss cheese.  
  
She sits next to Josh, idly looking through the worn book sitting in her trembling hands. She flipped randomly, her mind blank until her eyes landed on the cover page. The original art full of monsters drawn in a cross-hatched style were colored over – the boy in the middle with a crown was scrawled over with brown hair and blue eyes. The various other monsters were drawn over the same way, reflecting all of them: Chris, Sheva, her mother, and father. As she braced herself for the rush of grief that picture gave, Josh softly squeezed her shoulder.   
  
As much as she didn't have it in her, she needed to stay strong even if it seemed she had little to stay strong for. She looked at Josh her coffee eyes tired, so tired of it all.  
  
"So...where do we go from here?" His eyes read of concern; him knowing how much she has been through in such a short amount of time.  
  
"Fight the good fight. That's all we know how to do." Her voice was a quiet, somber tone.  
  
"Even when the walls say no?"  
  
At this she weakly grins, the glimmer of hope still in her eyes, the answer giving both hope: "As long as the world needs us."  
  
The plane engine roars from idle to full, the movement denoting take off. It flies off; the people on board bracing for the sudden movement. As the plane levels out, one of the Africa branch operatives walks past the others in the front. He walks towards the back where Josh and Sheva are talking privately, a gun slowly being drawn from his back pocket.  
  
As the plane flies off towards sunsets to a land shrouded in past calamity, the small van heads to where only Devil's dare tread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes are from 'Pray' from RE5 OST, and Dante's Paradiso.


	12. SofD - 11 - Empyrean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An encore chapter cause it seemed right to send it off this way. Also smut. Before people go 'wut', realize each smut chapter has a reason thematically to the entire storyline and hints as into how things 'are'. ~Question everything.~

**Empyrean**    
  
  
_…where the wild things are - where devils roam; full of devils youthful, sweet and vengeful…_  
  
  
The days slid by; simple things like washing dishes, playing out in the sun, being a family became commonplace. Jill was feeling for once in her life as if she finally succeeded in having a bit of complete happiness. It was an odd sort of happiness, but if one ignored the glaring differences in their 'normal' it was enough.  
  
The little girl despite the tragic chain of events and the tough decisions made for her had adapted as she expected her to. In fact, already hanging on the fridge was the child's first attempt with watercolors. She never trusted her with the sloppier materials but decided to be a bit lax.  
  
It was a cute rendition of their familial unit, in the sloppy scrawl of a child's hand. Full of blues, blacks, but interestingly devoid of red.   
  
_I guess she grew out of that color after all._  
  
As for herself, Jill could only think…she had literally decided to leave the world behind. The world that proved time and time again that it was cruel and that no matter how she tried to fix it, it was never enough to satiate its hunger in hurting her and the ones she cared for. A picture of herself, Sheva, Sia, and Chris sat on a nearby table.   
  
Chris…  
  
_He didn't deserve to die like that._  
  
His death only cemented her choice. The other two involved couldn't speak for themselves; someone had to. Someone had to even if it meant leaving Sheva to grieve alone. It meant knowing, accepting that despite the new location, the new persona, the isolation, they would always be hunted by the world.   
  
The faint movement outside their small hidden domain was the only tale-tell sign of the third resident, the almost methodical way in which he guarded them belying his overprotectiveness. He had taken to such action on his own inexplicably since they holed up in this unused residence. It at times seemed unnecessary – she knew that Sheva had used her connections to make sure all trails to them were severed – but maybe it was just in his nature. She let him be; it possibly in his own mind giving him purpose.  
  
It must be just a tad grating, not fighting anything? Not warring or hunting save for a few game fowl here or there? Jill often wondered if he could seriously live without…killing. That was his ingrained purpose. Would he be able to gain another all the way out here in no man's land?   
  
_Aggression is all he had ever known. Would it be right to expect him to discard that?_  
  
She would often muse about this. It wasn't as if she had anything else to do but watch over them. But that was the thing. That was ALL she could worry about. To worry about the small things, not of evil corporations, or of things killing her, or…worse.  
  
_Peace._  
  
It was difficult. It didn't require power or destruction. It required resolution of a disquiet mind. But her mind – had it ever  _not_  been disquiet?  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
She had tucked Sia in after reading together; the quickly growing little girl begging to stay up a bit longer but was again told to go to bed. As a compromise, Jill had allowed her to watch T.V. for another hour. She couldn't repress the smile crossing her face; within 20 minutes she heard the soft sounds of sleep from the girl's room. She had leaned in turning it off closing the door behind her.  
  
At the opposite end of the house was a larger room. She walked in, expecting but seeing no one inside.  _Probably still out patrolling or hunting for game_. She never thought too hard about the monster's habits and began to lay down letting herself get sleep.   
  
Sleep that night wasn't peaceful or calm. Reoccurring nightmares of knives, blood, and cruelty took place inside them. It wasn't often, but even so when they did occur she woke up wanting to scream; to pull her hair out; to in some way cut them out of her mind. She saw herself in a sea of blood covered sheets rich in luxuriousness but full of her pain and filth. Despair filled them, the pure wishing of it to be over – the lack of power to even scream made her knot up inside.   
  
She had woken trembling; the images still clear no matter how much she told herself she was ok. Helplessness and loneliness coursed through her, her breaths ragged. Suddenly arms circled around her, the smell of dirt and rain reaching her. Her body suddenly relaxed – she wasn't aware of her tenseness until he leaned against her, the rain-slick leather causing her thin tee to stick against him. The soft pelting of rain was heard from the outside.  
  
The soft displacement of air along the length of her neck made her tremble followed by the soft line of his tongue against the raised thin hairs along it. If it had been anyone else she would have been twisted out of his grip as soon as she awoke. She was pulled flush against him spooning against his midsection.   
  
Fingers were trailing through her hair the dream sliding into back the realm of sleep while she fully arrived into the world of the waking. But the faint feeling of powerlessness despite the ease she had around him remained. She couldn't shake that last bit of it and she couldn't understand why. Save for things out of his control and that incident in the White Room he had since being found always behaved, always letting her take the reigns. But she chalked that uncomfortable situation up to him not knowing any better.  
  
_But it seemed for all that, she couldn't truly expect him to be 'good' all the time could she?_    
  
Her train of thought was derailed as she felt him faintly nip along her neck. He had never done that before…It made her tremble; the knowledge that said teeth could seriously harm her if he bit too hard running through her mind. But that only made her arch her neck closer, not away. She pushed herself closer onto him, feeling him already hard through his pants hidden under layers of leather.  
  
But he made no move to disrobe, only growling softly against her neck as she brushed against him. She could already feel herself flushing, her skin already on fire. Jill moved to turn around – but his arms held her solidly in place.   
  
_Since when did he refuse her? Doesn't he want to?_  
  
For a moment Jill could only wonder in confusion until she was flipped onto her stomach. Before she could sit up she felt weight press down behind her. Somewhere deep down a familiar fear came to the surface. He has never topped her, not like this. Nor has he tried to do  _anything_  without her permission. Her arms went to lightly push him off but she felt tentacles wrap around her wrists.   
  
He shifted his weight, pressing down just enough to pin. He lay on top of her like this letting his lipless face purr into her tousled hair. His much larger arms were to the sides of her head, his elbows leaning into the bed. Other than him pressing into her, he did not move.  
  
_What was he trying to prove here?_  
  
She didn't know what worried her worse, that she within the maneuver was completely at his mercy, or that he sat doing nothing …making her wait to see what if anything he'd do. But that feeling from the dream she thought she had shouldered away returned with a vengeance. The only times she had been out of control in bed were filled with moments of pain, suffering, doubt, despair. The only hands in those experiences were cruel, apt at meting out unforgiving torture. A Tyrant's hands that took but never gave.  
  
And again she's lying under a Tyrant's power. He had in the past hurt her; would it not be a surprise if he did so again? Despite herself, a small whimper came, a soft barely audible sound that she knew he heard. His head left her hair, leaning to her ear letting a low dark growl fill it. She bit her lip feeling the slight shift from behind her. A wet tongue licked the curve of her ear causing her to press her face into the sheets despite her wariness of the situation.  
  
The tongue was followed by his teeth, the sharp points pulling lightly on her lobe, and then little by little closing onto the thin flesh breaking the skin. Despite knowing he just bit her Jill couldn't help the feeling of warmth pooling down beneath her. It hurt…but it felt good.  _Too good_. The pain was momentary; his teeth lightly pulling on the lobe as he licked the faintly bruised flesh. This strange feeling of suction despite not possessing lips caused the woman to whimper, biting her own in excitement.   
  
His left hand reached up stroking her bound hands. Her wrists were bound but loose enough to allow circulation. Despite the uncomfortable angle of her hands the feel of his rough ones along her softer fingers caused her to arch against him the touch as electrifying as in the aftermath that day-  
  
_when he faintly touched her hand_. She knew from then on that he was capable of more than violence with them. That contradicted everything she understood about his kind. That terrified her. That day the unnerving thought welled up from within – that everything she understood about him was a lie.  _Then again couldn't she for once be honest with him?_  
  
But honesty hurts. It brings up nothing but pain.  
  
He took his hand away, letting it land behind her. It trailed softly up her exposed thigh the feel of his gloved leather-clad hand palm flat on her skin. The much larger hand stopped at the swell of her ass, seemingly hesitating. Warmer air hit her earlobe as he removed his mouth from her ear. She then felt his weight leave her back.  
  
As much as her still lingering concern wanted to sit up with him, her curiosity had her stay put. Considering she was still bound it wasn't as if she could go anywhere anyway. Much stronger hands had pushed her up; pushing her into a kneeling position with her knees in, ass up, her head pushed down into the sheets. She could feel the creak of the bed as he returned behind her. The thin cotton tee rolled down to her waist, exposing her, the thin fabric panties the only barrier to him. It was an admittedly embarrassing position. It was an admittedly humiliating position.   
  
_An admittedly vulnerable position._  
  
A position she had refused to be placed in since those traumatic events. But here she was, bound and prostrate. She wanted to get up now, to not be like this – her thoughts started to rage in repressed agitation until she felt hands lower her underwear down. As she started to register the sudden rush of air against her sex a warm tongue made all thoughts cease.   
  
A trail was made along her mound from her front to her back, exploring her. She could tell he was unsure what to do, but despite this the pure intimacy in doing that had her mouth parted panting into the sheets. Seemly encouraged by her response she felt him repeat the action, again and again, each time probing deeper with fervor. Her feet were starting to curl, her fingernails pressing into the meat of her bound palms.  
  
As spots dotted her vision he suddenly stopped, the bed creaking as he sat up off it. Jill looked up with the corner of one eye seeing him look down on her. A look of true possessiveness, of desire, of intensity, was seen there, a gaze she never truly got used to. It was a look that only someone truly loyal would give. The monster in her dreams never had that, the being incapable of such. Not even Chris as much as he said otherwise.   
  
_The monster in her waking reality wanted her trust in trade._  
  
And that scared her. More than anything.  
  
The sound of straps and buckles unfastening traveled through the air, him methodically taking off each item slowly. Sitting behind her topless, the soft clicking of his belt was heard before the shifting of his top skirt. His bottom pants came off last, the thick leather pushed down his hips; the sight causing her breathing to hitch. For a good long moment, they regarded each other, him studying her reactions, her for the first time looking up not down at him. Not up as in height, but up as in acknowledging that she should for once trust him to lead. To have the choice. To have her without a pretense of a 'just for tonight'. To share in power. To not have to take it, or kill for it – but to be allowed to have it. To wield it.   
  
_But whenever choice was taken away from her, she suffered._  
  
But he wasn't taking it. No, he was waiting for her to drop the chain.   
  
She understood now why he was missing during the day. Why he hunted all the time. It wasn't because he needed to kill. It was simply he needed some control, some allowance for power to be exercised. And she had out of fear kept it from him. Her own fear kept her from passing the reigns – and allowing herself to enjoy the loss.   
  
He leaned against her again, his long legs between hers. Hands held her by the hips, one gloved one not, his upper half leaning down onto her. She felt him breathing heavily into her ear, his flesh pressing hot against the swell of her ass. She looked behind herself, her eyes locking with his lone white as he pressed into her.   
  
Slow yet hard; the bed rocked as he pressed deep inside, her small hands still bound by living restraints. Her ragged breathing had at some point turned into moans, her mind for once letting go, letting it happen. Still, he had kept to his deep, slow pace his hands keeping her locked in place. Dark grunting was the sound that played from him, his hips colliding rutting into her again and again. She could feel his nails digging into her skin but the pain was becoming mixed with the pleasure; she wasn't certain if she could tell the other apart anymore.  
  
_There will be bruises in the morning._  
  
Despite it, she felt herself trying to arch back to meet him, arching for more,  _dear God more_! Deep panting was the melody that hit her ear, the sounds of his labored grunting as he took her; she was well aware that he was probably even now holding back despite the thrill of dominance dripping with each sound he made.   
  
She felt teeth grazing her shoulder pushing aside the loose fabric that covered it; the same one that carried a circular wound along it. Her whole body carried wounds, marks of battle, marks of torture, and …she felt him circle a patch of shoulder, his teeth grazing the tortured, marked skin.   
  
_It was to carry a mark of pleasure now._  
  
He bit her shoulder, soft at first, then deeper just enough to break the skin. Jill could only moan into the sheets the sharp pain mixing with the deep-seated pleasure she was feeling. He pulled off, licking his teeth. His stapled head lowered down again, slowly licking along the bruised and broken skin, still rutting into her his pace becoming faster; erratic.  
  
She could only take it, him finally taking and her giving, finally letting him have his turn. His back arched his eye widening then fluttering closed; she felt him lose himself inside of her, a loud roar dimming into softer sedated groaning. But he didn't stop. Rather he leaned down onto her his face against hers.   
  
He raised a hand to her face, wet with tears she wasn't aware she had shed. They were softly wiped away as he rode himself out into her. Somewhere between his large hands wiping her tears away and oblivion, she recalled screaming. Screaming out her release and pain and fear and …everything. Screaming because it felt so good and so dark, and…and…  
  
He had stopped then, holding her against him her bound hands being let go. One large hand stroked hers, his head leaning against the hollow of her neck in an unspoken act of submission. He would always defer to her…he wasn't afraid to.  _She shouldn't be_. One of hers slipped out of his grasp to softly stroke his scalp, the monster still softly panting, his breath coating her neck. She felt his larger form moving against her backside, his muscles slowly relaxing from the momentary high of the afterglow.  
  
Aside from the absurd fleeting thought, _I'm glad Sia's a deep sleeper_ , Jill's mind went blank: too tired to care, or over analyze, just blankness. Blank as she was clung to him tightly feeling that overwhelming feeling of submission; just being and not getting destroyed, but actually being taken care of wash over her. Both slumped fully onto the bed, the sound of heavy breathing and the rain the only things heard inside the room. Large arms held her tight, not wishing to let go even as he himself softly broke their union, the sheets showing the aftermath. No red, no pain, no fear of the next day ending everything… trailed those sheets. The world was no longer an adversary. Her soft hand found his, for once clasping his not in direction, but in closeness.  
  
As she spooned against him, she finally understood why he kept the hateful thoughts away.   
  
She finally understood him.   
  
_Her mate_.  
  
+  
  
To my ma(s)te(r),  
  
Lo ~~ve~~ yalty  
Is  
Everything.

**Author's Note:**

> Reposted from dA, was written in 2010.


End file.
